Within the Wilderness, an Orchid Blooms
by georgesgurl117
Summary: When the Marriage Act is repealed, will it be marked by the end of a failed marriage or will it inspire the beginning of something better? This is a story about politics, portraits, priorities, and perseverance. Most importantly, this is a story about love.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I am not J. K. Rowling, ergo I do not actually own these characters despite how much I love them.**

**A/N: For those of you who are reading my other WIPs, I apologize for taking time away from those to start this one. Unfortunately, those darn plot bunnies were attacking and I was left utterly defenseless by my muse.**

**That being said, this story is going to be a bit different from any of my others. It's a post Marriage Law fic that is very (very, very) loosely inspired by the British comedy series "The Thick of It" that I recently discovered thanks entirely to my brother and his love of Hulu. It is not a comedy, however, nor is it action-packed. It will be a bit of a roller coaster of emotions as it is a story about beginnings and endings, about misconceptions and absolution, and about love and loss.**

**I thank you for reading and look forward to hearing your feedback.**

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_"It is remarkable that such delicate flowers should here adorn these wilderness paths." - Henry David Thoreau _

_"Don't it always seem to go that you don't know what you've got til it's gone..." - Joni Mitchell_

**- Chapter 1 -**

Hermione glanced up at the sound of someone knocking on her open door. When she saw one of her junior administrators poking her head in the doorway, she raised her eyebrows in silent question.

"Hey, boss," the woman smiled, "I just wanted to let you know that I'm heading out to meet Julian for lunch. Oh, and Mrs. Potter is here to see you."

"Thank you, Marie," she replied, setting down the file report she had been reading. "Enjoy your break. I have a feeling that those committee meetings this afternoon are going to be horrid."

"Oh, I definitely will enjoy it," the blonde smirked, holding up her left hand and brandishing the gold band on her ring finger. "I'm getting divorced!"

Hermione snorted and shook her head. "Off with you, then. And tell Ginny she can come in."

"Aye, aye, captain," the younger witch saluted before disappearing from sight.

"See ya, Dawlish!" called Ginny's voice.

"Ah, ah, ah," Marie shouted back. "That'll be Zeller to you in approximately half an hour!"

With a groan, Hermione leaned back in her chair, closed her eyes, and rubbed her forehead as she thought about all of the reports that would have to be edited to reflect surname changes.

"Hey, you," Ginny stated, smiling as she shut the office door behind her. "You look like you could use a day off."

With a sad snort, the brunette opened her eyes again and forced a smile. "I could use an entire year off."

"No," her friend smirked, adjusting the chubby baby on her hip as she stepped forward to the extra chair. "You would go bonkers with nothing to do for that long."

"Yeah, well, I'm going to be stark-raving mad by next week at this rate," she muttered morosely. "Kingsley couldn't have stepped down at a worse time."

The redhead shrugged as she sat down and set the gurgling child on her lap. "I think Dawlish – er, Zeller – would disagree with you. Along with a hundred other couples."

"I suppose," Hermione grumbled as she straightened a stack of folders on her desk. "However, Marie knows just how precarious the future of our werewolf legislation is with the administration change. It was set to be approved by the Wizengamot on the seventeenth, but now that half of the governing body are being replaced…ugh, who knows? Now we have all these committee meetings and inquiries into all of our policies to verify that no underhandedness was involved. And since Kingsley was a vocal proponent of most of our legislation changes – including the werewolf rights – a number of our measures are likely to get the axe."

"The House Elf Protection Act?" her friend asked curiously.

"Scheduled for review this afternoon."

"Ugh," Ginny moaned. "I'm really sorry, Mione. But you're alright?"

The older woman pinched the bridge of her nose and shrugged. "To be perfectly honest, I don't know. I would like to say my position is safe, but Kingsley _did_ appoint me to this post. They've already reshuffled International Magic Cooperation and tossed out McLaggen based on his affiliations. And poor Amos – he just resigned yesterday instead of dealing with the insult of being demoted from Department Head back to just heading the Beast Division."

"But Robards _likes_ you," the redhead protested. "He even considered proposing to you, you know, when he heard that you were still unattached. He consulted Harry on it, but before he could act on it, you announced your engagement."

Hermione raised one eyebrow in disbelief. "You can't be serious."

"I swear it on Jamie's life," she replied.

The other witch glanced down at the pudgy baby chewing on the over-sized buttons of his mother's robes. When a pang of sadness settled in her chest, she breathed in a quick breath and resettled her gaze to her desk. "Well, that certainly puts a different spin on things."

"Doesn't it?" Ginny laughed. "You could have been Mrs. Minister of Magic Gawain Robards."

"But I've never even spoken to the man," she mumbled. "I only met him a few times at Ministry functions and your wedding."

"Men are funny that way, Mione. They don't have to talk to you to fancy themselves in love with you."

"Now he's _in love_ with me?" she scoffed.

The redhead frowned and shook her head. "I don't think quite yet. He respects you, though, and holds you in very high regard. I wouldn't be surprised if he gives you a promotion."

"That would be nice," she exhaled, looking at the ceiling. "Until he makes a folly large enough to rival the Marriage Act and finds himself on the street. I'm barely under the radar as it is now. Any higher ranking and I'd be frantically scouring the job postings instead of just perusing them during my moments of weakness."

Ginny sighed and nodded. "They really did a number on Kingsley in the _Prophet_, didn't they?"

Her friend glanced at the corner of her desk where that morning's edition of the _Daily_ _Prophet_ had been cast aside. The headline _**"Shackle Shacklebolt?"**_ stood out in thick, black lettering.

"It wasn't even remotely his fault," Hermione muttered, picking at the edge of her desk. "The Department of Magical Census and Population Services published that report on lowered birth statistics, and because everyone freaked out, some idiot over there proposed the Marriage Act. When it was sent to the Wizengamot, it passed by a majority and Kingsley just stamped his approval. It's not like he came up with it in some diabolical scheme to enslave women in domestic servitude.

"And I seem to recall the _Prophet_ – and quite a percentage of the population – being much more supportive of the initiative three years ago. Doesn't look like it now, though," she finished with a snarl.

After a few minutes of silence, Ginny adjusted her son and awkwardly cleared her throat. "And what about you?"

"What _about_ me? You know that I've never been a fan of it. I nearly got sacked for protesting that it was some diabolical scheme to enslave women in domestic servitude three years ago, remember?"

"I know that," the younger witch said slowly, "I just meant that the Act's been repealed, and today they're granting marriage dissolutions left and right. Are you and Severus going to sign the papers?"

Hermione let out a long breath and closed her eyes briefly. "I don't know. We haven't discussed it yet."

"You haven't _discussed_ it yet?" she repeated in disbelief. "It's been the topic of the country for nearly a fortnight, and now that it's finally the fifth of October, you can't _not_ hear about it!"

"I know," the other witch mumbled, rubbing her neck. "But Severus and I… well… we don't really talk much outside of our appointments."

"No offense, Mione, but that just sounds depressing. You've been married nearly three years and you only see each other once a month."

"Maybe," she shrugged, leaning her head against the back of her chair. "But it worked for us, Gin. It wasn't meant to be a real marriage emotion-wise, but a mutual agreement to keep the both of us employed and in good standing with the Ministry. It was awkward as hell at first, but… I don't know… I've gotten used to it at least."

"Gotten used to it?" the redhead responded with an arch of her eyebrow. "That doesn't speak very highly regarding his performance in the sack."

Hermione snorted and then took in a deep breath. "That's not what I meant."

"So the sex is good, then?"

She sighed and gave a small shrug. "It's not bad."

"Now there's a glowing recommendation if I ever heard one."

"Shut up, Gin," she smirked. "I mean, it isn't mind-blowing or anything like that, but it's… well, it's comfortable."

"My _boots_ are comfortable," Ginny mocked.

The brunette shook her head. "If you weren't holding a child, I would throw something at you right now."

The mother held her babe to her chest. "That's why I lug him around everywhere. Makes me smile _while_ serving as a shield - multi-purpose is the only way to go these days."

When Hermione's smile did not quite reach her eyes and her laugh was brittle, Ginny sobered her expression. "Are you okay? Should I not have brought him?"

"I'm fine," she stated quickly. "And I am glad that you brought him. He's gotten so big."

"And heavy," the redhead lamented. "Would you like to hold him?"

"Can I?"

"Of course you can!" Ginny exclaimed, standing up and carefully delivering the child over the desk and into her friend's arms. "You _are_ his honorary aunt, for Merlin's sake."

"Hi, Jamie," Hermione cooed softly when the baby looked up at her with a surprised expression on his face. When he smiled and then started tugging at the ends of her hair, she winced briefly and glanced at her friend. "He has your eyes… and your grip, I think."

The younger woman laughed vibrantly and tugged at her wrinkled shirt. "And my temperament, unfortunately. He was a nightmare to put down last night. I'm surprised he's behaving so well at the moment, actually. He's started teething I think."

With a giggle, the other witch detached the tiny hand from her curls and smiled brightly when Jamie wrapped his miniature fingers around her own.

"So, _not_ mind-blowing, eh?" Ginny muttered, perching on the edge of the desk.

"You're like a dog with a bone, Gin."

"Well _someone_ has to be," she grinned as she folded her arms to her chest. "Clearly, your current husband isn't."

Hermione tossed her a look of moderate irritation. "I don't have any complaints in _that_ aspect of my marriage, so I don't see why you should."

"You don't actually _have_ a marriage, Mione," she corrected. "You have monthly _appointments_."

The witch sighed quietly, but offered no rebuttal as she played with the baby on her lap.

"Is there a reason why you haven't requested the papers?"

Hermione glanced up at her in mild surprise and then chewed on her bottom lip.

"If you don't want to say, Hermione, you don't have to," Ginny explained when she noticed the hesitant expression on her friend's face. "I mean, I was just curious since the whole reason you worked out this arrangement with Snape was to bide your time until the law was repealed and then make a clean break."

"Well, yes, it was," she nodded slowly, "when we thought the law would be quickly repealed. But when a year went by and there was no sight of common sense on the horizon, we realized that it was entirely possible that we might have children before it was abolished. So we decided that, in the event of there being children or a pregnancy, we would renegotiate the arrangement."

"Hermione, are you _pregnant_?"

With a nervous smile, the woman shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know. I haven't performed a test since the last time we –"

"Had _comfortable_ relations," Ginny smirked.

"Would you let that go? Merlin." She groaned, which caused Jamie to reach for her mouth.

The redhead smiled as she watched her son giggle as her friend pretended to gnaw on his fingers. "When will you find out?"

Hermione pulled her mouth away from the baby's fingers with a small pop and looked up at the younger witch. "Tomorrow night is our night. We'll check then."

"Well, I guess I'm not sure which outcome I prefer," Ginny sighed. When she saw a sad light enter her friend's eyes as she watched Jamie look about the room with curious eyes, she walked around the edge of the desk and knelt down on the floor beside the chair. "Hermione, you are going to be a great mum when it happens. And it _will_ happen – with the right man. You're my best friend, and I just want to see you happy…with as many children as you can stand, with a husband you love and who loves you more than life itself. You deserve so much more than a…a business arrangement or whatever it is you have currently."

Blinking back tears, the brunette straightened in her chair and cleared her throat. "You are seriously messing with my head right now. They're definitely going to sack me if I break down in tears in the middle of a review committee."

Her friend snickered and rocked back on her heels before reclaiming her son who was beginning to fuss. As she bounced him gently on her hip, she fixed Hermione with a quizzical gaze. "You don't love him, do you?"

"What? Who? Severus?"

"No, Argus Filch," Ginny sniggered. "Of course I mean Severus."

"No," she shook her head, wrapping her arms about her waist as she became acutely aware of the loss of the baby's happy warmth. "I don't think so."

"No? Or you don't think so?"

"Is there a difference?"

Ginny frowned and cocked her head. "I think there is."

"I don't see it," Hermione muttered, standing up from her chair and shoving files into a leather messenger-style bag. "I'm sorry, Gin, but I need to go prep for this meeting."

"You can't do lunch?"

The brunette shook her head rigidly. "If I eat, I'll likely vomit on somebody, and that won't go over well."

"You're nauseous?" Ginny asked, wide-eyed, as she gathered up her diaper bag. "You think maybe – "

"It's _not_ morning sickness," Hermione interrupted. "It's just nerves. I'm about to defend six years' worth of my blood, sweat, and tears to the new Department Head who is looking to prove that I've made it where I am by riding Kingsley's tarnished coat tails."

"You're going to be fine," the taller witch smiled, touching her arm gently. "I'm willing to bet dear old Gawain's put your name on the 'Do Not Throw' list."

With a snort, Hermione rolled her eyes. "Oh, goodie. More sodding coat tails."

"You never know – maybe he'll end up promoting you all the way to Mrs. Minister of Magic," Ginny winked. "After all, he and the now former Mrs. Robards were the very first couple to sign dissolution papers this morning."

"I really don't need to be the Minister's wife, thank you very much."

The redhead shrugged. "Why not? You're already the Headmaster's wife. It's really the only logical progression."

"I'm not even divorced yet and you're already planning my next wedding," she scoffed as she walked out of the office, "to a man practically old enough to be my grandfather, for Merlin's sake."

"Well, I didn't get to plan your last one," Ginny pouted, following her out. "You were _my_ Maid of Honor. It's only fair to return the favor."

"Hey," Hermione grumbled as she warded her door. "_You_ were my witness."

"All I did was sign a piece of paper," she sputtered. "No fancy dress, no dancing, no flowers, no fun –"

"And no fuss," the older witch added. "That was the point."

Ginny sighed as she adjusted her hold on Jamie. "Well, next time there better be some fuss. You owe me fuss."

The brunette rolled her eyes as she quickly scribbled a note on Marie's desk. "So you've already picked out my new husband and planned our wedding – are you deciding the names of our children as well?"

"If you'd like," she smirked. "I don't want to intrude at all."

"I'm sure." Hermione straightened and then glanced at her watch. "Gin, I really have to go now."

Her friend nodded and held out her squirming child. "Kiss the baby's head for luck!"

With a smile, Hermione placed a quick kiss on top of Jamie's downy head and then sped away down the corridor.

Sighing, Ginny placed her son back on her hip and slung the strap of her bag over her shoulder. "Alright, kiddo. Nobody's got time to eat with us today it seems. Daddy, Grandpapa, Uncle Ronniekins, and Auntie Mione are all busy. We'll just go home, have a grand, old time by ourselves, and when Daddy comes home we can tell him our news then. Sound good to you?"

When Jamie squawked and reached a hand for her mouth, she kissed his fingers and began walking in the direction of the lifts. "You're going to be an excellent big brother, aren't you?"


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you to those of you who reviewed and are following this story! I know you're itching to know Severus's thoughts on the matter, so I promise we'll eventually get to that. But the first few chapters are going to be centered on Hermione's reaction.  
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**I wanted to post this chapter since I had it done already, but the rest of the updates to my stories are going to wait until late next week. I have a massive Comprehensive Biochemistry exam on Tuesday, and I've already procrastinated studying long enough. Thank you all for waiting patiently! **

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_"Life will break you. Nobody can protect you from that, and living alone won't either, for solitude will also break you with its yearning.  
You have to love. You have to feel. It is the reason you are here on earth." – Louise Erdrich_

**- Chapter 2 -**

After shutting the front door of her flat, Hermione let her bag drop to the ground with a loud thump. After resting her head against the door for several seconds, she slowly sank down to the floor. Closing her eyes, she tried not to think about how horrible her day had been.

Needless to say, she failed.

_"Mrs. Snape," Gregor Everard, newly-appointed Head of the Department for the Regulation, Control, and Protection of Magical Creatures, smiled as he stood and held out his hand. "Or has it recently reverted to Ms. Granger?"_

_"No, it's still Mrs. Snape," she replied, politely shaking his hand. "Though, in either case, Hermione is perfectly acceptable."_

_"I'll stick with Mrs. Snape, if it's all the same to you," he smirked, extending his hand to Marie. "And you must be Mrs. Dawlish."_

_"Ms. Zeller now."_

_"Ah, my congratulations, then." The well-groomed wizard smiled brightly at her and gestured for them both to take a seat. When he sat in his own chair, he flipped open a large folder. "It seems one can tell a great deal about a witch's political leanings these days just by glancing at her surname."_

_Hermione widened her eyes and glanced about the table where the other Division and Office Heads were shifting uncomfortably in their chairs. Clearing her throat, she tilted her head. "Pardon?"_

_"Hmmm?" Everard mumbled, glancing up from the file. "Oh, just making an observation is all. No insult was implied, Mrs. Snape."_

_"Why would she be insulted?" Marie asked, glancing in confusion between her immediate superior and the Head of the Department._

_The man gave another haughty smirk and shook his head. "No reason. I'm sure she just hasn't had time to stop by the Population Services office this morning."_

_The brunette took in a heated breath and crossed her arms against her chest. "Forgive me, Mr. Everard, but I thought we were here to discuss House Elf legislation and not my current marital status."_

_"And so we are," he smiled, leaning back in his chair. "But I always feel the first step in evaluating the integrity of a piece of legislation is to evaluate the integrity of its primary authors."_

_"Whoa, hold on," Marie stated excitedly, leaning forward in her chair. "Just what are you insinuating, sir?"_

_Everard ignored the junior administrator and kept his attention focused on Hermione. "Kingsley Shacklebolt personally oversaw the creation of the Office for the Prevention of Cruelty and Unfair Practices against Magical Creatures four years ago, and immediately named you as its Head, did he not?"_

_"Yes," she replied in a clipped tone._

_"And prior to that, what experience in administration had you acquired?"_

_"I can answer that," a friendly voice sounded from the end of the table where Artemis Scamander sat. "Hermione worked diligently under my direct supervision in Werewolf Support Services."_

_Everard jotted the information down on a piece of parchment. "For how long?"_

_"A little more than two years, from September 2001 until she was appointed most deservedly to her own office in January 2004," the elder wizard replied, giving a smile to the witch in question. "Before that she had a four-month internship in the Goblin Liaison Office with Cuthbert Mockridge prior to his second retirement. She came highly recommended to me, and I quite concur with Cuthbert's assessment."_

_Hermione initially returned his grin, but grimaced lightly at the memory of her first few meetings with the Gringotts Staff. They were not terribly quick to forgive her for the dragon incident, and it had taken quite a bit of groveling to smooth the ruffled feathers._

_"Prior to that, Mrs. Snape?"_

_Coughing slightly, she watched him scratch out the information. "Twenty months in Magical Law at the Wizarding University of Great Britain on a Ministry-funded scholarship."_

_"Approved by Shacklebolt?"_

_The witch rolled her eyes and rubbed her forehead. "He was the acting Minister at the time, yes."_

_"You and your husband maintain separate residences?"_

_"I don't see the relevance of that question," Hermione grumbled, folding her arms. _

_"Nor do I," Marie added, glancing at her boss in support as a number of her colleagues gave muffled agreement._

_The Head of the Department smirked and folded his hands. "And that is precisely why _I_ am the one conducting the interview. It may not appear relevant to either of you, but I am sure the public would be interested to know, Mrs. Snape, when your husband already owns a pair of properties, why the both of you have opted to reside in Ministry-funded housing."_

_"My husband is the Headmaster of Hogwarts," she snapped, leaning forward. "He is _required_ to reside there! And _I_ purchased my flat _six_ years ago –"_

_"From the Ministry," the man added, "at a greatly reduced price."_

_"As did hundreds of other Ministry workers!" she glared. "There are twenty-five units in my building – all of which are filled with Ministry employees – and it's only one of a dozen Muggle-built buildings that were controlled and converted by the Ministry under the –"_

_"I am aware of the Office of Magical Personnel's Housing Initiatives," he interrupted._

_"Then what _exactly_ is your point?"_

_Everard paused at her hostility and straightened in his chair. "This is not a personal attack, Mrs. Snape. This department was on the short list of Shacklebolt's favorites, and with the change in administration, it is my job to address any weaknesses amongst my staff."_

_"And _I'm_ considered a weakness?"_

_The wizard steepled his fingers and quirked his lips. "I am not in the habit of lying, Mrs. Snape. Whilst your colleagues have assured me that you were every bit qualified and deserving of your promotion, to the public eye, being appointed Head of your own office with less than three years of full-time experience, is a bit suspicious. And while I am certain it was entirely innocuous, you _did_ also receive your schooling and housing as a result of Kingsley Shacklebolt's influence. _

_"The fact that you publicly spoke out against the passage and implementation of the Marriage Act is a tick in your favor – as is the fact that you did not comply with the requirement of producing a child within the allotted time – but the continued preservation of your marriage presents me with a challenge. It may appear to some that you've changed your mind regarding the subject and are fully supporting the Shackle-ist platform."_

_"The Shackle-ist platform?" she repeated under her breath, wrinkling her nose and trying desperately to ignore the feeling of being slapped in the face by his comment about children._

_"Yes, I agree that it is rather unfortunate for our former Minister to have a name so easily associated with the institution of forced matrimony," he chuckled._

_Hermione forced herself to don a brief smirk as the rest of her colleagues laughed hesitantly. She then took in a deep breath and leaned back in her chair. "So is that it then? In order to strengthen our department, you're going to kill my programs?"_

_"Oh no, on the contrary," he shook his head, gesturing to the folder in front of him. "I see no issue with your legislation. The House Elf Protection Act in particular is well-written and comprehensive in scope. As a number of its Wizengamot supporters have resigned, however, I am moving to resubmit it for decision from the court. That being said, I expect it will be re-passed with little difficulty."_

_"So the entire purpose of this 'review committee' was to examine my professional integrity?" she asked bitterly._

_"Indeed, it was," the wizard nodded, standing up from his chair. "I hope you do not take offense. I always make it a point to get to know my employees professionally before I get to know them personally."_

_As the rest of the gathered members began leaving the conference room, the witch slowly rose from her chair and eyed her new Department Head in disbelief._

_"One more thing before you leave," Everard stated, pulling out a sheet of parchment from his briefcase and leaning across the expansive table to hand it to her. "I suggest that you seriously consider that – and the sooner, the better. Enjoy your weekend, and I can personally file that for you on Monday morning should you choose to fill it out."_

_He snapped his briefcase shut, and moved around the edge of the table to shake her hand once more. "I look forward to working with you…Hermione."_

"Arsehole!" she hissed, punching her bag. Letting out a frustrated scream, she kicked her shoes off and covered her face with her hands for several seconds. Then, with a groan, she picked herself up from the floor and shuffled barefoot across the hardwood floor toward her bathroom. After the day she had had, she definitely needed a lengthy soak in the tub.

As the water spilled out of the faucet and filled the tub, Hermione slowly stripped out of her clothes and then examined herself in the mirror. Even after more than a decade, the ropelike scar from Dolohov's curse stood out as it crossed from her left shoulder over the swell of her left breast to end abruptly just above her navel. She had never understood how it could scar as it had without ever having drawn blood until Severus had explained it to her following their first marital encounter. Since it worked almost like a bolt of electricity, she had been lucky not only that Dolohov had been silenced when he cast it, but also that it had not passed any closer to her heart than it had.

She shivered lightly, and then wrapped her left arm around her waist so she would not have to see the pale letters carved into her forearm. She had tried desperately for years to remove the scars of her session with Bellatrix, but nothing had made the least bit of difference. It made her uncomfortable allowing people to see it, as she could not stand the looks of pity and disgust. Even Ron, during the few years they had been together, would make her feel self-conscious about it every time he would guiltily glance at it when it was visible. It had been even worse when they were intimate because he would adopt an air of sadness that should never be associated with the act of making love with one's partner.

The few other men she had been with had not really been any different… except for Severus. He never looked at her scars the way they had, and he had never made her feel repugnant or miserable when they were together. When he had seen her 'Mudblood' marking, he had not been disgusted by it or tried to be sympathetic. Instead, he had gotten angry. The look that had been in his eyes had convinced her that Bellatrix LeStrange should consider herself lucky to already have been blown to smithereens by Molly Weasley. Had the dark witch still been alive, Severus most assuredly would have tracked her to hell and back and destroyed her slowly and painfully.

Hermione closed her eyes and took in a calming breath as she remembered – for the first time – feeling protected and not pitied. That was why she was actually able to enjoy sex with him. She did not feel on edge like she had felt with the others. She was comfortable with him, and, as much as Ginny scoffed about it, that was everything to her.

The witch let out a shuddering breath as her eyes flashed open. It was all going to change now. She was going to have to let him go and try to find someone else that made her feel safe.

Unless she were pregnant, perhaps. Try as she might, she could not keep Ginny's questions out of her mind. She knew that it was not beneficial to pin so much hope on the prospect, because if it turned out not to be true it was going to hurt that much more. But if she were, it would make their decision so much easier. Without question, Severus would stay and she would not have to be alone again.

Biting down on her lip, she glanced at the faint stretch lines on her stomach and breasts that were slightly shinier than the rest of her skin. She did not exactly feel pregnant, and she had not missed her last menstrual cycle – but then again, neither had immediately occurred the first time, either.

Hermione sighed sadly as she stepped away from the mirror. Pregnant or not, she had still managed to pack on at least two stone in the past year. Severus had never commented on it, but she had noticed and she knew other men were bound to see it and judge her for it.

"Stop it," she groaned, holding her head. Taking in a deep breath, she attempted to banish all of the negative thoughts from her mind and then climbed into the deliciously warm water.

Nearly an hour later, when the tub had been drained and she had dressed in her most comfortable set of pajamas, she tossed a frozen meal in the microwave and then leaned against the kitchen counter while she waited. When she found herself glancing up at the still unopened bottle of Elf-made wine on top of her refrigerator, she crossed her arms and reminded herself that there was still the possibility of a child growing in her womb. With a sigh, she settled back against the counter and began humming under her breath.

When the years-old memory of receiving the wine floated into her line of thought, however, she scowled and yanked it down from the top of the appliance. She glanced at the attached note of congratulations written in Kingsley's masculine script and immediately dropped the bottle into the bin.

"Bastard," she hissed beneath her breath. "Couldn't be bothered to risk public disapproval three years ago, and now look at where we are. Choking on poison without a bezoar, aren't we?"

She all but ripped the microwave door from its hinges when it beeped a few seconds later. Without caring that it was still frosty in the middle, she ate her packaged meal quickly while still standing in the kitchen. Upon finishing, she moved back into the living room and picked up her bag from where it still sat in front of the door. Setting it on the coffee table, she unfastened the flap and pulled out the sheet of parchment that Everard had given her that afternoon.

**_Petition for Dissolution of Marriage_**

Hermione could not quite explain why her hands were beginning to shake or why her stomach felt as though it had dropped into her pelvis. Fear and panic seemed to grip her heart as she read through the form. She bit down hard on her lip as her eyes glanced over the empty lines where she and Severus were supposed to sign, as well as the line for the signature of a Ministry official.

Three signatures and the date. That was all it would take to end her marriage.

_"You don't actually _have_ a marriage, Mione. You have monthly _appointments_."_

The witch sighed as Ginny's voice played across her conscience. Her eyes stung as she dropped the piece of paper atop the coffee table, and she collapsed onto her sofa in defeat. Pulling a large throw pillow into her lap, she wrapped her arms around it and then lay down on her side.

She hated not knowing – not knowing if she was going to be a mother and not knowing if she was still going to be married or employed if she was. Of course, she could just perform the spell herself –or run down to the nearest chemist's shop for a Muggle test – like she had during the first half of their marriage, but she could not bring herself to do it. It may have been stupid, but she wanted to find out together. She already lived alone – ate alone, slept alone, woke up alone – she did not want to be pregnant alone.

Blowing out a deep breath, she closed her eyes and willed herself to relax. Severus would be there for supper the following evening, and they would sort it all out together.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thank you for your reviews! Severus will make an appearance in the next update, I promise!  
**

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_"It is a dull sensation, your heart breaking, like the sound of a pebble dropping on the sand. Not a shattering, not a tearing apart, there is nothing shrill or grandiose about the sensation. It is merely an internal realization that something treasured you never knew you had is leaving forever." ― Samantha Bruce-Benjamin_

**- Chapter 3 -**

Hermione chewed on her bottom lip as she glanced up at the clock. It was nearing six o'clock, which meant that she had approximately half an hour before Severus arrived. He always presided over the Saturday evening meal in the Great Hall before apparating to her flat. She thought it curious that he always managed to have enough room in his stomach to clear at least one plate of whatever it was she had cooked, even though he had already eaten. Unless, of course, he chose not to eat at Hogwarts, which was odd in its own right, since the elves could cook ten times better than she ever could.

After wiping her hands on a towel, she put the freshly-prepared green salad into the refrigerator and then placed a pan with two chicken breasts into the oven. While she had a few minutes to spare, she disappeared into her bedroom and shrugged out of her jeans and faded t-shirt. Opening up her closet doors, she glanced over her wardrobe contemplatively before finally selecting the royal blue dress she had just purchased the weekend prior. As she pulled it over her head, she gave a slight smile at knowing it was his favorite color.

Not black; not green. Blue was Severus Snape's favorite color.

Yanking off her socks, she grabbed her prettiest pair of heels and then turned to leave the room. She paused in the doorway two seconds later, when a thought struck her. Peeking down the front of her dress, she frowned at the visible proof that her underwear did not match. Immediately she stripped out of her knickers, deposited them in the hamper with her jeans and tee, and then dug around in her underwear drawer until she found a pair that was at least complementary in color to her bra.

Slipping them on beneath her skirt, she stepped into her shoes and then hurried back into the kitchen. She tied an apron about her waist and quickly set to filling a pot with water. When she had set it on the stove to heat, she pulled cream, butter, and parmesan cheese out of the fridge and began preparing an alfredo sauce in a small saucepan. After the sauce began to simmer and the water started boiling, she emptied half a box of fettuccine noodles into the pot and then backed up against the island counter.

She glanced over her shoulder at the now-immaculate living and dining area. She had spent the entire morning dusting, sweeping, and mopping before spending the afternoon doing a month's worth of laundry. It was pathetically ironic how the Marriage Law had managed to turn her into a domestic goddess who cooked and cleaned and dressed in an effort to please her husband.

Well, once a month it did. The other twenty-nine or so days still involved her living amongst a moderate amount of clutter and doing exactly as she wanted – reading, visiting with her friends, writing reports, researching legislation, responding to harsh criticisms from politicians, the press, and sometimes the public…

So maybe it was not exactly what she _wanted_ to do, but it was still her life. She was not expected to live or keep her house a certain way.

Not that Severus ever voiced any expectations over her life.

Hermione blew out a slightly irritated breath as she realized the show of faux domesticity was entirely her own doing. It was not as though he was likely to turn up his nose at the sight of file folders piled up on the coffee table or a few days' worth of dishes stacked in the sink. Despite the fact that his robes were always perfectly pressed, she remembered exactly how cluttered his office had been when he was teaching, and she had heard descriptions of the dilapidated state of his home in the Spinner's End neighborhood.

So why did _she_ care so much? Why did she try so hard to hide her housekeeping flaws? He never balked at her physical scars, so it was highly unlikely that he would refuse to perform his husbandly duties just because there was a pile of dirty clothes spilling out of her closet.

The witch snorted under her breath as she stirred the cream sauce to keep it from burning. For some currently unknown reason, she wanted him to think she was more put together than she really was. It did not really make any sense to her as to why she would want to impress her husband-of-convenience – or why she was bothering to continue the charade now when she was just as likely to wake up divorced as married – but she could not just sit by and wait patiently.

When the meal had finished cooking, Hermione plated two servings and placed them under stasis as she set the table. As she set down the silverware, she glanced uncertainly at the candle that sat in the middle of the table. Eventually deciding that it had been sitting unused long enough, she slipped her wand out of her pocket and whispered, "Incendio."

The pleasant smell of vanilla soon filled the air, and the woman smiled as she breathed in a healthy dose of the scent. Removing her apron, she hung it on a hook near the kitchen sink and then straightened the front of her dress. With a look up at the clock, she sighed in relief that everything was done and ready just in time for his arrival. She picked up the two plates of food and carried them out to the table. Without removing the warming charm from the food, she sat down at the table and proceeded to wait.

And wait.

After several minutes passed in silence, she frowned and cast a _Tempus_ charm to be certain that her clock was set correctly.

"Six forty-seven," she whispered, leaning her elbows onto the table. Perhaps there had been an incident with the students. It _had_ happened before on their night. A fight had broken out between a handful of students – from Gryffindor and Slytherin, of course – and had prevented Severus from being on time for their appointment. He had shown up nearly two hours later than usual with an apology immediately spilling forth from his lips. He had assured her that if it were ever to happen again, he would send word, but maybe he had forgotten.

Men who actually loved their wives forgot all the time.

Rubbing tension out of her shoulder, Hermione stood from the table and sought a more comfortable seat on the sofa. With a soft sigh, she kicked off her shoes and tucked her feet beneath her as she leaned against the armrest. She picked up the book she had been reading most recently, but after eventually realizing that she was merely staring at the page without comprehending the words, she set it back down on the end table. Instead, she took to playing with the thin, silver band on her left ring finger as she continued to wait.

She smirked as the action called forth one of the fonder memories of the past three years.

_"Must you always fidget?"_

_Hermione smirked and stopped spinning her ring as she glanced over her shoulder to the wizard who had just appeared. "We've been married a year, Severus. One would think you'd have noticed that by now."_

_The wizard narrowed his eyes in amusement and leaned forward to whisper in her ear. "I wasn't asking if you did it, witch. I was asking if it was entirely necessary."_

_"I see." She rolled her eyes, moving her hands to smoothen the bodice of her gown. "Well, I have to channel my nervous energy into something, don't I?"_

_"And just what does the Head of the_ _Office for the Prevention of Cruelty and Unfair Practices against Magical Creatures have to be nervous about besides bungling your own ridiculously long title?"_

_Hermione blew out a soft breath as she glanced at the crowd of dancing couples. "Well, for one, she was concerned that her husband was going to abandon her at the Ministry Christmas party – on their anniversary, no less – and leave her to fend off the grabby hands of the Department of International Magical Cooperation on her own."_

_"Whose hands are in need of removal?" he growled, scanning the crowd. _

_She laughed brightly as she leaned back against him. "No one's yet. I've managed to avoid being asked to dance thus far."_

_"Hmm," he grumbled, resting his chin atop her head. "I do, however, see that a majority of the Department of Magical Games and Sports appear to need their eyes removed."_

_"Jealousy already, Headmaster?" she quipped, grabbing two flutes of champagne from a passing waiter. "Surely that must be some sort of record. You've only been here a matter of seconds."_

_The man grunted as he took one of the drinks from her hand. "And I'm already fully content to leave."_

_The witch sighed and shook her head. "You didn't have to come, Severus."_

_"You were the one who asked me to."_

_She frowned back at him. "Yes, but you didn't have to if you didn't want to."_

_"One would think that by now you'd have noticed that I do as I'm asked," he sneered, "not necessarily what I want."_

_Hermione took a slow sip of her bubbly as she considered his admission. "So if I were to request a dance?"_

_Letting loose a sigh, Snape tossed back his entire drink. After setting his empty flute down, he took hers out of her hand, drained its remnants, and deposited it next to his glass. He then slipped his hand into hers and begrudgingly led her out onto the dance floor._

Taking in a deep breath, the witch wrapped her arms about her waist and closed her eyes. If she focused hard enough, she could remember the feel of being in his arms as he moved gracefully moved her about the Ministry ballroom. She had only managed the courage to keep him on the dance floor for two songs, but they had been the best two dances she had ever had. Viktor Krum had been a decent enough dance partner, but he could hardly compare to Severus.

And Ron _certainly_ did not. She cringed at the memories of the Victory celebrations they had attended together, and was grateful for the benefit of magic. If it had not been for the cushioning charms she had placed on her feet, she would have been in unbelievable pain at the end of a long night of having a six-foot tall, fourteen-stone, Auror-in-training stepping on her toes.

Though as enjoyable as she had found that evening with Severus to be, it had never happened again. Neither of them attended the Ministry Christmas ball the next year, and their second anniversary had been demarcated only by the arrival of a vibrant, blue orchid on the desk in her office. She had brought the plant home with her, but beyond that, she had felt no real cause for celebration.

"Come on, Severus," she whispered impatiently, standing up from the couch and walking over to the fireplace. After a few minutes of internal debate, she grabbed a handful of Floo powder and tossed it over the grate as she stated her intended recipient. When the green flames flared up, she knelt down and called out his name.

No reply came.

Hermione frowned and scanned the brief view she had of the Headmaster's Office. There was no sign of his being there. She waited another long moment before calling out once more.

Again her call went unanswered.

Grumbling under her breath, she cancelled the connection and picked herself up from the floor. She crossed over to the window where the orchid still grew, its blooms still as vibrant as the day she brought it home. Looking up from the flowers, she peered out onto the streets of London and sighed upon seeing that a light drizzle of rain had begun.

After casting another _Tempus_ charm and determining that he was more than an hour and a half late, she groaned and rested her forehead against the cool glass. Anxiety twisted in her gut as the possibility of his having befallen harm entered her mind. She quickly dismissed that notion, however, since she knew that Severus Snape was more than fully capable of keeping himself safe.

Besides, if he _had_ been injured she would have known about it already. The Ministry took their Emergency Spousal Notifications very seriously in the aftermath of the War, and the program had only been bolstered by the implementation of the Marriage Law. Even when she had explicitly asked them not to, the staff at St. Mungo's had sent out an alert and Severus had been at her side within half an hour of her being admitted.

When a growling sound interrupted her musings, Hermione grimaced and placed a hand on her stomach. It had been nearly nine hours since she had eaten anything, and her body was desperately trying to remind her of that fact. Frowning, she folded her arms against her chest and stalked back to the table. As she attempted to ignore the gnawing feeling of loneliness settling into her gut, she picked up her fork and set into enjoying the meal by herself.

Enjoying was a loose term. It was something with which she had plenty of experience: it was impossible for food to taste good when you were trying not to cry. It tasted like sand – like it was dry and bland. But maybe that was just how it was to begin with. She could not cook like the Hogwarts elves or like Molly Weasley – something that had plainly been written on Ron's face every time she attempted making him a meal. He had never voiced any complaints, but she could tell. She could never tell with Snape, though. He never gave any indication if something was too boring, or overcooked, or too salty.

Which it was now. How could a meal suddenly go from bland to overly salty?

Oh, that's why. She was crying. With a gasp, Hermione dropped the fork to the plate with a clatter and then pushed everything away from her. Holding her head in her hands, she shook with sobs as she finally allowed herself to realize that Severus was not coming.

He did not care – not about the housekeeping… or the meal… or their marriage… or her. He had said it himself; he would do what he was asked, and not what he wanted. She had been the one to suggest the schedule, and now that the Marriage Law was defunct, there was no reason for him to abide by their agreement. He had only come to her flat because she had asked him, not because he had ever wanted to.

Letting loose a primal cry of agony, she launched out of her chair and snatched both plates from the table. Stomping over to the kitchen, she dumped the food into the bin and then threw the dishes in the sink. The resulting crash indicated that at least one of the plates – if not both – had broken, but she did not care as she stormed back to the table and blew out the candle.

"Ugh!" she screeched. "Why do I _care_? _He_ doesn't care! _I_ shouldn't care."

Taking in a shuddering breath of air, she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and then shook her head. "I'm not going to care."

Through rapid blinking, she gathered control of her tears and her emotions. Breathing deeply, she straightened to her full height and strode to the end of the sofa where she had left her shoes. With three more inches added to her small stature, she donned a brave face and approached the refrigerator where she had pinned the dissolution form. For several minutes she stared at the parchment and attempted to build up her confidence.

"I _don't_ care," she whispered harshly. With that, she yanked the paper from the fridge – sending the magnets flying in all directions – and spun sharply on her heel.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Thank you for your reviews!  
**

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_"The flame of anger, bright and brief, sharpens the barb of love." - Walter S. Landor_

**- Chapter 4 -**

As soon as she landed, Hermione cursed her sudden inability to think clearly. Anyone would have known better than to apparate into Scotland in October whilst wearing nothing more than a thin dress. Or to wear three-inch heels when facing a mile-long trek across an uneven gravel path. And whereas in London there was a delicate veil of rain, here it was pouring. She had stood outside of the Hogwarts gates for no more than two seconds, and already she was thoroughly soaked and shivering in the cold.

"So stupid," she hissed under breath before pulling out her wand. She cast a number of charms to keep herself from developing hypothermia – and to keep the parchment she held from turning into a soggy mess – and then sent a Patronus in the direction of Hagrid's cabin. She had opted to alert the half-giant to her presence instead of Severus because she preferred to deal with the details of their marriage in private and indoors. She was not entirely sure that he would even allow her in if he were purposely trying to ignore her.

When a lantern appeared through the rain a few minutes later, she gave a sigh of relief.

"'Ermione?" the groundskeeper called out, surprise written on his face as he held a large umbrella over his head. "What'r yeh doin' out 'ere?"

"Hi, Hagrid," she stated politely as she watched him unfasten the gate. "I needed to talk to my… to Severus."

The large man frowned slightly as he let her in and re-bolted the entrance. "Well, why didn't yeh jus' Floo inta his office instead've comin' all the way out 'ere?"

Hermione sighed and scratched her head as they began walking down the long, wooded path. "I tried that, but he never answered when I called. I can't Floo in without his consent."

"I woulda thought you would 'ave permission to come'n'go as yeh please," he mumbled, "seein' as yer his wife'n'all."

The witch shrugged in response.

Suddenly noticing her manner of dress, Hagrid widened his eyes. "'Ermione, yeh mus' be near froze solid! I can grab yeh a cloak from the cabin, if yeh need."

"Oh, no," she shook her head. "I'm fine. Really. I should have considered the weather wouldn't be nearly as nice as in London, but warming charms will do."

"Oh, er—right," he stammered sheepishly, "Fergettin' yer a witch, aren't I?"

Hermione forced a smile and shook her head. "It's alright, Hagrid. How's Fang?"

"I thought yeh'd heard by now," he sniffled loudly, "but ol' Fang's passed on."

"Oh, Hagrid!" she covered her mouth with one hand and grabbed his large hand with the other. "I'm so sorry! I didn't know."

The half-giant nodded glumly and sucked back another round of sniffles. "S'alright. Been a few months now since he went. Figured Severus woulda told yeh, though."

"No, we don't really…" she paused at seeing his sad expression and rubbed his arm. "He didn't tell me, but maybe it just slipped his mind."

"Yer probably right. He always has too much ta do." He sighed, but then gave her a small smile. "He still came out to me cabin, though, 'n helped me give the ol' boy a proper burial."

The witch glanced up in surprise. "He did?"

"Yea," he nodded with a wink. "S'a good man yeh got there, even if he is a bit rough 'round the edges."

"It appears that way, yes," she mumbled, focusing her attention on the wet scenery about them so that he could not see how quickly her smile had faltered.

They continued walking through the rain in gloomy silence for several minutes – Hermione thinking about her marriage; Hagrid about his dog. When they were nearing the front entrance of the castle, he cleared his throat. "I've been thinkin' of gettin' a new pup, but I don' know if I'm ready yet."

The woman let out a breath and nodded in empathy. "I understand, Hagrid. It takes time to move on."

"Did yeh ever get another cat?"

Hermione grimaced slightly, remembering that the last time she had written Hagrid had been right after Crookshanks passed two years before. She shook her head slowly. "No, I haven't."

"Oh," he muttered as he held open the large castle door for her. "Do yeh think yeh will?"

"Someday," she nodded with a hopeful smile.

A grin appeared on Hagrid's face and he ducked his head. "Maybe then yeh could help me look fer another pup?"

"Of course," she smiled, wrapping her arms around his waist as far as she could. "I'd like that very much."

"Thank yeh," he responded, patting her on the shoulder with his large hand.

When she stepped away from him, the parchment she carried got caught on the edge of his belt and then fell to the stone floor. Before she had fully noticed that she had dropped it, the groundskeeper bent down to pick it up for her. Catching sight of the bold black letterhead, his face fell suddenly, and he slowly looked at her with sad eyes.

"Oh, 'Ermione…"

The witch averted her eyes from his moistened gaze as she took the paper from his hand. Clearing her throat, she straightened to her full height and smoothed the wrinkles from her dress. "Thank you, Hagrid, for escorting me across the grounds. I look forward to speaking with you again soon. And I really _am_ sorry to hear about Fang."

After he returned a muffled good-bye and shuffled out into the rain again, she took in a steadying breath and made her way toward the Grand Staircase. It was not until she reached the seventh floor, however, that she realized she should have asked Hagrid if he knew the current password since, as the Headmaster's _wife_, she _apparently_ was not trustworthy enough to behold that particular information.

"Maybe then he would've stopped looking at me like I killed his dog," she muttered beneath her breath. She let out a groan a second later, realizing the harsh irony of the statement. In her mind she sent him an apology and then continued down the corridor, hoping to run into one of the staff. By the time she reached the base of the gargoyle, she was ready to just send Severus her Patronus and hope for the best.

At her approach, however, the gargoyle jumped aside and the wall shifted without her having to say a word, and her eyebrows shot nearly to her hairline. Setting her face into a scowl a second later, she stepped onto the ascending staircase and impatiently waited until it reached the ornate door. She lifted her hand to knock, and nearly jumped backwards when the door opened of its own accord. With raised brows, she stepped cautiously into the large room and realized that the current Headmaster was still curiously absent.

"Good evening, Hermione," Dumbledore's portrait greeted gently from his position centered behind the desk.

"Hello, sir," she responded politely, glancing over her shoulder as the office door closed softly. She eyed her surroundings curiously, since it had been more than five years since she had last stood in the room. In her head, she had imagined it to look either as it had at the end of the War or similar to how Snape's dungeon office had appeared. She was surprised to note, however, that the space was remarkably less cluttered than Dumbledore had kept it – though with significantly more books – and still maintained a pleasant, homey vibe.

"Is there something I can help you find?" the former Headmaster asked, with raised brows. "Or someone, perhaps?"

Hermione cleared her throat and nodded as she returned her attention in the direction of the ornate cherry wood desk. "You wouldn't happen to know where he is, would you?"

The painted wizard nodded and gestured toward a narrow door between two bookshelves. "Severus has kept to his quarters for much of the day, and retired for the evening as soon as he returned from supper."

"Is he ill?" she asked, glancing up at the painting in concern.

A snort exploded from the direction of Phineas Nigellus Black's portrait. "If he isn't yet, I expect he will be in the morning."

"Phineas!" Dilys Derwent snapped with a glare to her canvas compatriot. "Keep your acrimonious opinions to yourself."

"It isn't an _opinion_, you dotty bint!" he sneered, folding his arms. "It's an _observation_. One that I was giving in order to answer the _Madam's_ question."

"Well you could do it in a more delicate manner!"

"Ha!" Phineas laughed coldly. "There isn't anything _delicate_ about a man drowning himself in a bottle of firewhiskey, nor is there about a witch driving him to –"

"Black!" Everard Burke shouted. "Let it alone! The girl hasn't done anything to deserve your vitriol."

The Slytherin Headmaster scowled and muttered under his breath as he settled back into his painted seat. "She also hasn't done anything to maintain my _respect_, either."

"Ignore him, dear," Dilys smiled gently at the befuddled – and now insulted – witch standing in the middle of the room. "I don't think he's quite gotten over the trip in your beaded bag."

"Trip!" he stammered in disbelief. "It wasn't a bloody _vacation_, you tart! It was a kidnapping!"

"One that worked out most favorably, I might add," Dumbledore winked.

"Of course _you_ would add that," Phineas scoffed. "It was not your bearded bizarreness, however, having to dodge an avalanche of books every fifteen seconds."

"Forgive him, if you would, Madam," Everard sighed, rolling his eyes at his nearest neighbor's behavior. "Clearly he was raised at the bottom of a snakepit –"

"As opposed to in the middle of a pile of badger excrement," Black interrupted.

"—and I would also like to personally apologize for the conduct of my younger cousin – fourth removed, of course," Everard Burke continued, ignoring his successor. "He takes more after his mother's side, you know. She was a Crouch."

"Oh," Hermione mumbled, belatedly recognizing that he was referring to her new boss. "Thank you, but how did–"

"Newton Scamander visits me in my portrait at the Ministry every Saturday morning for tea and checkers," he replied with a smile. "Your colleagues have been grumbling about dear Gregor being highly…out of line, to put it delicately."

The woman shifted on her foot. "Oh, I see. I didn't make the connection that the two of you were related."

Burke nodded in understanding. "My mother was an Everard and, as the first borne son, I was named to reflect the pride of both families."

Phineas gave an exasperated sigh and rolled his eyes.

Dumbledore cleared his throat to catch the witch's attention as the rest of portraits began bickering amongst themselves. "I am sure that Severus would appreciate seeing you if you would—"

"The _hell_ he would!" Phineas argued over the din of everyone else.

"Black!" Everard, Dilys, and two other former Headmasters hissed, while a few others nodded their head in agreement.

The Slytherin adjusted the collar of his robes and glared out of his portrait. "_You_ of all people, Dumbledore, know just how much that man has suffered. He doesn't need anyone else dallying in his affairs, or treating him as nothing more than a means to an end."

"What?" Hermione whispered, staring at the irate Headmaster in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, _now_ you care!" the wizard snapped, pinning his attention on her. "I'm surprised, _Madam_. I thought he would have had to sprout a tail and pointy ears or dance about in a pillowcase, ironing his hands, first."

"Phineus," Dumbledore stated sternly, while a number of the other portraits erupted in outrage. "That is quite –"

"ENOUGH!"

Hermione practically startled out of her shoes at the deep bellow that came from behind her. As the entire office plunged immediately into silence, she swallowed back the sudden dose of adrenaline coursing through her system and slowly turned around to see Snape standing there in a wrinkled, white shirt and black trousers.

"Severus," she stated quietly. When his eyes dropped from glaring at the rows of paintings to her face, she felt her stomach drop at the iciness of his gaze.

"What are _you_ doing here?"

Gathering her courage, she stood tall and stared up at him. "I could ask you the same thing."

The wizard narrowed his eyes. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that it's the first Saturday of the month!" she replied grumpily. "It means that you were supposed to be in London, in my flat, eating supper at my table – not here, apparently drinking yourself into a bottle!"

Snape's eyes widened as he folded his arms against his chest. "Drinking myself into a bottle? Is that what you think I've been doing? –"

A low murmur of dialogue between the former Headmasters began as the current occupant of the office took one step nearer his wife.

"—Because that's the only possibility, isn't it? I'm not adhering to your bloody ovulation cycle, so naturally I must be drinking myself into a stupor!"

"What is _wrong_ with you?" she snapped, throwing one hand in the air. "_That_ isn't what I meant! I just meant you were supposed to be _there_! You agreed to –"

"I agreed to it only for the extent of our marriage," he returned. "Not beyond that!"

"Is that not still a ring on your finger?" she countered angrily. "Because it looks like one to me!"

Severus took in a heated breath of air and straightened to his full height. "Then give me the paper."

"What?"

"The paper you expected me to travel all the way to London just to sign," he sneered, ripping it out of her hand. "Was there a particular reason you couldn't owl it? Concerned, perhaps, that I wouldn't sign it unless you were physically breathing down my neck?"

Hermione dropped her jaw as she spun to watch him stalk over to his desk. "No, I – wait, _why_ do you think that's why I wanted you there?"

The man scowled and leaned across his desk to grab a crumpled ball of parchment from the bin. "I received _that_ yesterday morning."

When he launched it at her, she awkwardly caught it with two fingers as it bounced off her shoulder. With a look of bewilderment on her face, she quickly smoothed it out and began to read.

**_Dear Severus Tobias Snape, Order of Merlin, First Class; Potions Master, Level Three;  
Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry:_**

**_In an effort to reduce congestion in the Office of Population Services and to minimize any inconvenience on your part, we are delighted to inform you that a Petition for Dissolution of Marriage has already been requested and distributed on behalf of your recorded marriage to Hermione Jean Snape née Granger, Order of Merlin, First Class. The form will need to be signed by both parties and delivered to your designated Ministry officer for our records to reflect that an official dissolution has occurred. _**

**_Wishing you a fabulous day,  
Auregula Hopkirk  
Deputy Head of the Department of Magical Census and Population Services_**

The witch blinked in surprise as she looked up from the letter. Her stomach immediately clenched in anxiety as she witnessed her husband dipping the end of his quill in the inkwell and moving to lift it over the parchment.

"Wait!"


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Thank you for your reviews! Since I left you with a nasty cliff-hanger, I thought I'd post a little sooner than originally planned. You're welcome.  
**

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_"Trouble is part of your life, and if you don't share it, you don't give the person who loves you enough chance to love you enough." - Dinah Shore_

**- Chapter 5 -**

"For what, exactly?" he snapped, his arm frozen in midair as he crouched over his desk.

Hermione rushed forward, yanking the petition from beneath his left hand before a blob of ink could drip onto it. "I wanted to talk first."

"What could we possibly have to talk about at this point, Granger?" he muttered, slowly standing upright.

The witch winced at his reversion to her maiden name. He had not called her that for the entirety of their marriage, and it was surprising to her how much it stung to hear it now.

"Well?" Severus snarled impatiently.

She took in a deep breath as she stared down at the parchment in her hands and then nervously lifted her eyes to his face. "We previously discussed the possibility of a renegotiation in the event that…"

As though he had been doused with an invisible bucket of water, all of the anger suddenly vanished from his countenance. His shoulders became less rigid, and his mouth parted slightly as his gaze flicked between her stomach and her eyes. "Hermione…"

"I don't actually _know_ that I am," she sighed quietly, shrugging her shoulders. "But I don't know that I'm _not_, either."

He sucked in an uncertain breath and leaned against the corner of his desk. "It has been an entire month. You should have been able to tell a fortnight ago."

"I know _that_," the woman whispered, wrapping her arms across her chest. "But I couldn't do it."

Severus raised one eyebrow in confusion. "Have you forgotten the charm?"

"No," she shook her head, dropping her gaze to the floor as traitorous tears began forming. Blinking quickly, she wiped her eyes with the butt of her hand. "I just couldn't do it on my own."

He swallowed nervously and ran his hand over his face as he watched her struggle not to cry. "Is that the real reason why you've been waiting for my assistance recently?"

Closing her eyes, she nodded slowly.

The wizard perched on the edge of his desk for a minute, until he noticed the trembling of her bottom lip. Letting out a low sigh, he pushed away from his desk and approached her. With a hesitant hand, he reached out and swept some of the hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear. "Were you late?"

Hermione shook her head and gasped slightly as she whispered, "But I didn't miss the first one last time."

Snape closed his eyes, a pained expression slipping into his features as he gently wrapped his arms around her. When she leaned into him and buried her face into his collarbone, he moved one hand to rest against the back of her head. "Why didn't you tell me this before?"

She gave a hiccoughing whimper as she clutched onto his shirt with the hand still holding the petition. "Because I would…rather have you think me as a witch who constantly let herself be overwhelmed with work than one who is…weak."

"I would _never_ have thought that," he stated assertively.

"Guess I know that now," she whispered into his shoulder. "But that's why I needed you _there_. I can't sign without knowing."

"Nor can I," the wizard agreed quietly, rubbing her shoulder. "We will check first."

Hermione sighed softly against his chest. "Thank you."

With a stiff nod, he released his hold on her and stepped backwards. As she wiped her eyes, he placed a hand at the small of her back and guided her in the direction of his quarters. When he held open the door for her, he cast a warning glare over her head to the wall of portraits behind his desk. With the exception of Phineas Black – who was still looking rather put out – the former Headmasters and Headmistresses had all solemnly dipped their heads out of respect.

As the door shut them into privacy, the witch walked about the small sitting room and eyed the space with subdued interest. "You know, Severus – it does seem rather odd that we've been married nearly three years, and I've never once seen where you sleep."

"I keep the coffin upstairs," he stated quietly, gesturing to the spiral staircase in the corner of the room.

His wife let out a surprised bark of laughter and glanced over her shoulder. She shook her head at his ability to keep his expression dead pan, and then continued in her perusal of the first floor of his quarters. A small kitchenette sat off to one side with an attached dining nook that was surrounded by large multi-paned windows on two sides. Though the midnight blue velvet curtains had been drawn shut, a sliver of the night sky was still visible.

Upon noticing there was a dirty pan soaking in the sink, she looked back at him with one eyebrow raised in surprise. "You cook?"

Severus shrugged his shoulders and exhaled loudly. "I manage."

"Huh," she murmured, glancing up at the stained glass cupboards. "I didn't know that."

"I had gathered as much from your initial inquiry," he muttered as he removed the latest edition of _Potions Monthly_ from the cushion of his armchair. After tossing it haphazardly on the coffee table, he sat down and proceeded to watch her carry on in her inspection.

After a few minutes of attempting to put off the inevitable, Hermione returned to the main living space and caught his eye as she took a seat in the chair facing him.

"Does it pass code?" he sneered quietly.

"Sorry," she responded with a brief smile. "I've just never had an opportunity to see these rooms before."

He grunted and picked at a loose thread on his chair. "You've had thirty-three months' worth of opportunities by my count."

"What?"

"As my wife, my residence and office have always been open to you. I thought that would have been blatantly apparent."

"Well, _apparently_ it wasn't," she replied shortly. "Or else I wouldn't have apparated to the main gate and walked nearly a mile in the rain and up seven flights of stairs to argue with you."

"Why didn't you just use the Floo?"

Hermione blew out a frustrated breath. "Because you didn't answer, and you never told me that I had automatic permission to Floo in."

The wizard eyed her carefully for a moment before letting out a quiet sigh. "I apologize for not making it clear to you what privileges are extended to my wife."

She frowned at the hint of bitterness in his tone, and then glumly glanced down at the two papers in her hand. She set the petition down on the coffee table and stared at the heavily creased letter for several seconds before letting go of that as well. Resting her hands on her upper arms, she glanced up to notice that her husband was purposefully pointing his gaze in the opposite direction.

"Severus, I didn't know they had sent you the letter," she stated softly. "I wasn't even the one who requested it."

His eyes suddenly sought out her form. "Then who did?"

"I suppose that would be my new Department Head, Gregor Everard," she muttered grumpily. "I wasn't planning on deciding anything without speaking to you first, but he practically ambushed me with it after conducting a review of my… of my professional ethics."

"_Your_ professional ethics?" he stammered.

"Yeah," she smirked sadly, smoothing out one of the wrinkles in her skirt. "Every success of mine can be somehow traced back to Kingsley's influence, and he wants me to distance myself politically as much as I can. Apparently being seen as a 'Shackle-ist' is not only detrimental to my own career, but to the reputation of the entire department as well."

Snape's expression became unreadable as he stared at her. "And he believes our marriage is such an obstacle?"

The witch nodded slowly and rubbed her hands together. "Fitting isn't it? Seeing as three years ago I had to _marry_ you in order to save my career. It only makes sense that I'd have to divorce you for the same reason."

He cleared his throat and leaned forward. "Hermione, why didn't you tell me this earlier?"

"When?" she questioned severely with a shake of her head. "This happened _yesterday_! Hours _after_ you got that letter, even. I didn't _know_ that they would alert you at all, let alone before _I_ was even told. I had planned on telling you everything earlier tonight…over unbelievably bland chicken alfredo… but you see how well _that_ worked out."

"I am sorry," he stated gently, grabbing hold of her hand. "I didn't know any of this."

"Obviously," she sneered beneath her breath. Though she stared in irritation at the floor, she did not withdraw her hand from his.

Severus grimaced briefly as he watched her slow her breathing to a normal pace. He knew that she was angry with him for his reaction – and he supposed she had a right to be – but he could also tell that her ire also stemmed from the fear and anxiety she felt regarding the possible pregnancy. After a few minutes, he stood and motioned for her to follow him to the oversized sofa. "We might as well see if there's a reason to concern ourselves."

When she donned an apprehensive expression, he squeezed her hand and guided her to lay lengthwise across the cushions.

"Relax," he instructed, perching on the edge beside her. When she took several calming breaths and closed her eyes, he gently lifted the skirt of her dress over her hips until her entire stomach was exposed. He rested one hand along her side and began whispering the familiar incantation before delicately tracing the end of his wand across her flesh.

He heard her gasp sharply as she felt the warmth of the spell, and he watched the tip of his wand intensely as the white light flickered, flashed red, and then disappeared. Expelling the breath he had not realized he had been holding, he averted his gaze to the floor and squeezed his eyes shut.

"Severus?"

At the sound of her worried voice, he turned his attention back to his wife, who was still lying with her eyes closed. Pulling her skirt back into place, he cleared his throat. "You can open your eyes now."

Hermione allowed her eyelids to flutter open and she rose up onto her elbows, nervously eyeing his face for any signs of an answer. When he shook his head and stood from the sofa, she sighed sadly and swung into a seated position. Wrapping her arms tightly against her stomach, she stared at her shoes for several minutes. Eventually, she lifted her gaze to the back of his form as he stared out of one of the windows.

"So that's it then?" she asked.

"That's it," he grunted, without turning around to face her.

The witch chewed on her lip in anxiety and collapsed against the back of the sofa. "So what do we do now?"

There was a long moment of silence before he made any indication of hearing her question. With a stiff sigh, he turned slightly and looked to the wall. "We sign the document."

"Okay," she whispered slowly, rubbing her arms. When he crossed the room a few minutes later, after having procured an inkwell and quill from somewhere, she felt a nervous panic rising in her chest. Grimacing, she leaned forward and held her head in her hands. "Do we have to do it right now?"

Snape paused after setting down the ink and glanced at her with one eyebrow raised. "As opposed to when exactly?"

"I don't know," she sighed. "It just seems rather… abrupt."

He cleared his throat as he straightened his posture. "This was always the agreed upon end to this arrangement. It has been thirty-three months in the coming."

"I know that," Hermione nodded, "but does it have to be tonight? I'm not going to file it until Monday anyway and…well… I'm not particularly inclined to go back to my flat at the moment."

"Very well, then," he muttered, stepping away from her and into the kitchen. When he reappeared, he was holding a bottle of Blishen's Premium Highland Scotch Firewhisky and two crystal tumblers.

At seeing him set the glasses down on the coffee table and twist off the cap from the bottle, the witch narrowed her eyes. "What are you doing?"

Severus snorted as he poured the dark amber-hued alcohol and then held one out to her. "I thought perhaps you might assist me in _drinking myself into a bottle_. I've only managed two servings in the past forty-eight hours, so clearly I'm off to a glacial start."

She winced as she accepted the cool glass and shook her head. "I'm sorry for saying that. It's just what Headmaster Black said you were doing, and I should have known better."

"Yes, Phineas does have a predilection for hyperbole," he sighed, settling back into his armchair. "And he's been rather outspoken this past year."

"Hmm," she mumbled, watching him take a slow sip and then glancing at the half-empty bottle on the table. "I would have figured you for Ogden's."

The wizard grimaced slightly. "I lost all respect for them when they hired that buffoon Lockhart to endorse their wares. Minerva was only too helpful in introducing me to Blishen's."

"Ah." She swirled the contents of her glass slightly and then smirked as she met his eyes. "You know, this will be the first booze I've had since you stole half my champagne at the Christmas Ball."

He returned an amused expression and rested his elbow on the armrest. "I will buy you an entire bottle to atone for my serious transgression."

"Deal," she smiled, tilting the glass to her lips. As the liquid burned the back of her throat, she coughed slightly in surprise, and then wiped a stray tear from her eyes. "That's so much stronger than Ogden's."

He nodded in agreement. "Molly Weasley did send me a bottle of Elderflower wine if you would prefer that."

Hermione shook her head. "No, I'm fine with this. It just takes time to adjust."

After Snape made a grunt in understanding, the two of them settled into lengthy period of silence. When she had finished her first drink, she held out her glass and he immediately refilled it for her. Her cheeks were warm as she leaned back against the sofa cushions.

"Wanna know something pathetically funny?" she asked.

Her husband poured his own refill as he raised one eyebrow. "What?"

"Did you know that we've had sex exactly twenty-nine times?"

He choked slightly on his drink and then eyed her curiously. "You've kept count?"

"I'm Hermione Granger – er, was and will soon be again Hermione Granger," she responded, "Of course I've kept count."

"Of course you did," he sneered, shaking his head.

She nodded emphatically and pointed with her glass. "And that's my point. How _pathetic_ is it that after three years of marriage I can still keep track of how many times I've slept with my husband? It's _seriously_ pathetic."

Severus sighed and set his tumbler down on the table. "I am sure that thanks to the Ministry there are several dozen couples with lower numbers than ours. They didn't exactly set a minimum requirement in that respect."

The witch shrugged and set her glass beside his. Biting on the corner of her lip, she glanced up at him with bright eyes. "Is that coffin of yours big enough for two?"

"What?"

When she noticed how carefully he was visually examining her, she sighed lightly. "I'm _not_ drunk, Severus. Tipsy, yes, but still in full control of my mental capacities. And I'm asking you… if you would care to make it an even thirty."

He held her gaze for several seconds as he debated with himself and then finally he stood from his chair and held out his hand to her. As she took it, he wrapped his fingers around hers and assisted her to her feet.

Without either of them saying a word, he led her up the staircase and into his bedroom.

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_A/N: Severus's thoughts will take center stage in the next few chapters..._


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Thank you for your reviews! I promise I've started working on an update to Bound to Him and Rumored in Love, for those of you who are following all of my WIPs, but am not sure when they'll be ready. Currently, I'm struggling just to breathe/sleep without coughing up a lung. I can't even begin to describe how awesome it is to spend Spring Break (which you've been looking forward to for months just to have some downtime) fighting a nasty cold and not doing anything remotely fun.  
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**So make my day (or week, actually) by leaving your thoughts!**

**And for those of you excited for a bedroom scene, I apologize, but I'm not quite ready to push this story to an M rating yet. I hope you won't be too disappointed.**

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_"Ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation." - Kahlil Gibran_

**- Chapter 6 -**

A number of hours later, Severus lay staring at the underside of the canopy of his king-sized bed, listening to the soft sounds of his wife's breathing. After a heady combination of emotional outbursts, booze, and sex, sleep had claimed her relatively easily, but the same could not hold true for him. His mind was running on overdrive, forcing him to relive memories and filling him with regret. For though he had reminded Hermione that this end was to be fully expected, he himself was not yet ready to face it.

When discussions of letting the Marriage Act expire on the third anniversary of its passing hit the front page of the_ Daily Prophet_, he had fully been expecting a gleeful visit – or a victory letter or Floo call, at the very least – from the witch. While a fortnight gradually passed with no word from her, he had begun to consider the possibility that perhaps she did not wish to honor their original agreement and instead wanted to refrain from divorce. He had no desire to admit that he had hoped for that outcome, but it was true nonetheless.

And then he had received the letter from the Ministry, and the proverbial rug had rudely been pulled out from underneath him. He remembered opening the envelope when it had arrived in his office just after breakfast and staring at the note in shock for nearly half an hour. At first, it was as if his mental faculties could not process the information being displayed, and then it hit him like a bag of bricks. It had felt as though an important part of him had been ripped away, leaving a giant gaping hole to be filled with all of his previous issues of abandonment, neglect, and rejection.

It was a familiar feeling to him – first with losing Lily, his mother, and then his unborn son – but it did not make it hurt any less. If anything, it hurt worse knowing that Hermione had actually _been_ his – in name, at least – and that she had _chosen_ to leave him. How long he had sat at his desk, holding his head in his hands, he did not exactly know, but eventually even that had become too much for him to handle. The framed picture that he had previously placed upon his desk had seemed a mockery of his misery, and so he had tersely instructed Albus to tell Minerva that she was to disturb him only in the event of an emergency before he had retreated to his quarters to sulk.

Until tonight, his personal rooms had remained remarkably Hermione-free, and they had provided him with the escape he had needed then. He had managed to progress to a state of numbness by the time supper was served, and after waking the following morning, he had allowed rage to overtake his thoughts. He had been angry at her for allowing the Ministry to do the dirty work for her and then expecting him to go out of his way to end their relationship. He had been angry with the Ministry – both the previous and current administrations – for approving the implementation of the Act as well as its expiration. Mostly, however, he had been angry with himself for becoming so emotionally invested in what was meant only to be an arrangement of convenience.

It had been such a gradual development of sentiment on his part that he truly had not realized his feelings for her were strengthening. He had spent a year and a half of their marriage convincing himself that he cared for her only as a friend, and had firmly believed that even his willingness to renegotiate their agreement in the event of children was simply for the sake of any possible offspring.

And then one day, everything had changed.

_ "Severus?"_

_The wizard's gaze snapped up from the annual budgeting report he had been reading and focused on the green flames flickering in his fireplace. Rubbing the back of his neck, he dropped the report back to his desk and then stood from his chair._

_"Severus, are you there?"_

_"Yes," he replied, moving quickly toward the fireplace. A strange feeling had settled in his chest at the realization that his wife was contacting him a full week ahead of their scheduled meeting time. Kneeling down, he took in the odd expression on her face and frowned. "Is something wrong, Hermione?"_

_"Erm, no," she answered, shaking her head lightly. She chewed on her lip for a moment and then sighed. "Could you come through, though?"_

_Snape glanced about his office briefly and then nodded. Unscheduled or not, he would much prefer to spend the evening with her than to spend it sorting out all of Horace's ill-documented expenses. When she backed out of sight, he stood up and then stepped through the flames into her brightly lit flat. _

_"Hi," she murmured quietly._

_He cocked an eyebrow. "Hello."_

_She smiled strangely and then began backing toward the kitchen space. "Can I get you anything to drink? Or are you hungry at all?"_

_When he shook his head, she paused mid-step and then awkwardly folded her arms under breasts. _

_"Did the Leaving Feast go well?" she asked quickly. "The castle must be terribly quiet now that all the students are gone. Have the staff left yet, or are they still taking apart their classrooms? I suppose you must have an awful lot to do to close out the year, don't you? I never really thought about all of the administrative tasks the Headmaster must –"_

_"Hermione," Severus interrupted, holding up a hand. He eyed her jean-clad form cautiously for several seconds before speaking again. "You prattle on incessantly when you're anxious, and I am becoming increasingly concerned. Now tell me what exactly it is that is upsetting you, because I am relatively certain you have no real interest in my administrative duties."_

_The witch took in a deep breath and nodded. She nibbled on her bottom lip – an act of which he had become acutely aware – and then picked up her wand from the end table beside her. Clearing her throat, she lifted the hem of her white tunic top and pressed the tip of her wand against her bare flesh. _

_His breath caught in his throat when she began whispering the incantation for the _Foetus Revelio_ spell, and his mouth parted in shock when the white light from the tip of her wand brightened exponentially and then flickered green. As the light disappeared and Hermione dropped her shirt back into place, an expectant silence descended upon the room. _

_With wide eyes, he allowed his gaze to drift upwards from her stomach to rest on her face. "You are…"_

_"Pregnant? Yes," she smirked brightly. When he did not immediately say anything, she shifted her weight and her face fell slightly. "Are you upset about it?"_

_"What?" he stammered in surprise. A second later he realized what she had asked and shook his head. "No."_

_Noticing that she did not look entirely convinced, he stepped toward her and gently grabbed her arms. "Hermione, look at me. I am not the least bit upset about it. In fact, I believe I am the furthest thing from that."_

_"Really?" she whispered, staring up at him with moist eyes._

_In lieu of simply nodding his assurances, he moved one hand from her arm to cup her cheek and then leaned down to capture her lips in a kiss. When she melted against him, he slipped his other arm around the small of her back and pulled her into him as they continued their passionate exchange._

_Eventually, they pulled away and Hermione breathlessly collapsed against his chest. "I think I might believe you now." _

_He laughed deeply and stroked her back. "I cannot convey how much a relief that is to hear."_

_The woman tossed him a grin as she slowly slipped out of his grasp and moved towards the sofa. "Now what do we do?"_

_"Well," he stated, watching her sink onto the cushions, "I suppose we schedule an appointment with a Healer at St. Mungo's to have it confirmed… and then… then I will assist you with anything you need."_

_She nodded thoughtfully and rubbed her shoulder. "You'll come with me to my appointments?"_

_"Of course," he stated, walking over to the couch and sitting down beside her. "I will accompany you whenever and wherever you wish."_

_The witch smile and shifted so that she could rest against his shoulder. "Thank you, Severus."_

_"You say that now," he smirked, slipping his arm around her, "but I have the distinct impression that you will reverse that opinion rather shortly."_

_Hermione snickered softly, closing her eyes as she wrapped her arms about his neck and snuggled even further into his chest. "I'll try my hardest not to."_

Severus sighed as he remembered how she had fallen asleep in his arms that night, and the feelings it had instilled within him when he had carried her into her bedroom. After tucking his wife – and growing child – into bed, he had laid beside her just watching her sleep, and minutes before he had succumbed to his own slumber he had come to that startling realization. He knew then, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that he loved her.

And as a muffled moan drew his attention to her sleeping form, the wizard knew it was still true. He loved her more than he had ever thought possible, which made it that much harder to admit that he had to let her go. It was not something he wanted to do, but what _he_ wanted had never really mattered to anyone.

Resisting the urge to move the hair from her face, he pushed himself into a seated position and was cautious enough not to jar the mattress as he slipped out from the bed. Silently he stole toward the bathroom, snatching his trousers off of the ground and a new shirt and pants from the wardrobe on his way. As he shut the bathroom door behind him, he slumped against the door and closed his eyes.

Despite the fact that she presently carried his surname, he held no claim over the witch and he would not pretend otherwise. She was independent and strong-willed. She was every bit the bossy know-it-all she had been as a student, though he could no longer find her the least bit insufferable. Even when he was angry with her and felt injured by her indifference to him, he could not help but be drawn to her.

"_Severus… Sev-rus… Sev… Seh-eh-ev… Sss-eh-ah-ah-ah-AHH…"_

He swallowed hard as the memory of her writhing beneath him echoed across his conscience. He had always hated his name – it had never ceased to be an object of ridicule as it lent itself so easily to repugnant nicknames – but whenever he heard it escape her lips and then dissolve into a jumble of desperate syllables moaned and gasped as she reached her peak, it was his favorite word in the world. Whether Hermione was even cognizant that she had ever uttered his name in the throes of passion – and by no means had it happened with great frequency – he did not know, but in those brief moments he had always felt that he was in possession of the greatest treasure mankind had ever known.

He had wanted so badly to claim her and to have her fully aware as she declared herself his, but he had been grateful enough for what he had been given that he did not wish to risk losing it. He never allowed himself to speak during their coupling for fear of what might tumble out, and for the past ten months especially, he had continuously reminded himself that she was not truly his. He had known that the end would come, but despite all of his effort, he had not been prepared for it.

With a sigh escaping his lips, he crossed over to the marble vanity and turned on the sink faucet. Cupping his hands beneath the cold water, he splashed his face and tried to wash away the pain. It had been so stupid of him to take her to bed when he knew that this was the end, but when she had looked at him with such an honestly hopeful expression on her face, it was next to impossible for him to say no. He had spent so many years cutting her down as a student, but once she had become his wife, it was exceptionally difficult to refuse her anything.

After he wiped his face with a fluffy hand towel, he dressed himself in silence. He then slipped back into the dark bedroom and collected his velvet outer robes from where they had been cast aside the night before. He took one last long look at the woman sleeping peacefully in his bed before gliding down the spiral steps into his sitting room.

With a large sigh, he perched on the edge of the sofa and pulled the Petition for Marriage Dissolution towards him. A twisting feeling settled in his gut as he contemplated the ease in which their union was to be disbanded. Three bloody signatures and the date. That was all it would take to end nearly three years of marriage.

Except it really had never been a true marriage, had it? And he had only himself to blame for that.

He sat frozen in place for several minutes as he attempted to wrap his mind around everything he had experienced in his limited time with his wife. While in the moment he had not considered that he was squandering away his life by adhering to their monthly appointments, he now knew better. In hindsight, he realized just how many wasted opportunities there had been. He could have left Minerva in charge and gone to Hermione's flat more than just one night a month. He could have actually extended an invitation to his wife to spend an afternoon, or an evening, or an entire sodding weekend at the castle.

But then again, that would have required that Hermione be agreeable to it.

He knew that she must care for him in some regard, but to what degree he could not be sure. He hoped that she cared for him enough to consider him more than a friend, but he would accept whatever terms she set. He had no wish to be through with her once the petition had been filed, and he hoped that she held a similar view.

Glancing toward the window, he inhaled deeply and let his eyes drift shut briefly. For a few moments, he allowed himself to consider the possibility of officially courting her in the future and wondered how opposed to the idea she would be. She would have to be fully acquiescent to it, of course, which significantly decreased the likelihood of it ever occurring.

It had not escaped his notice that she had rarely ever asked him to do anything outside of their regularly scheduled nights. Disregarding the few months during which she had been pregnant, a number of events at the Potter residences, and the one Ministry function, they had spent the entire time apart. The arrangement had been designed with that separation in mind so as to not inconvenience either of them, but his attitude since then had experienced an unexpected, drastic change. Especially in the aftermath of her miscarriage, he had come to realize just how miserable his life was without her.

Severus sighed audibly and rubbed his temples. He did not want to let her leave, but he would do anything and everything she asked. And right now, she was asking to be cut free from him. It was her career that was at risk, and he was not going to stand in her way or hold her back.

He also was not going to torture himself any longer with the prospect that she might change her mind. It had been enough to entertain the notion that she could be pregnant again, and it had been exceptionally foolish to let her spend the night in his bed.

With a determined shake of his head, he pulled the quill from the inkwell and quickly signed his name with a flourish. He then removed the silver band from his finger and let it drop onto the parchment with an audible thunk.

As he flexed his fingers, he could feel an odd sentiment choking its way up his throat. Attempting to clear it away, he rose from the sofa and strode toward his office door. Yanking it open, he barreled down the trio of steps and headed immediately toward the exit.

"Severus!" Dumbledore called out, startling a few of the sleeping portraits awake.

The current Headmaster, however, paid him no heed and did not delay in storming through the ornate double doors to disappear down the twisting staircase.

"Just let him be, for Circe's sake," Phineas spat. "You don't need to be personally involved in _every_ misery of his. Let someone _else_ ruin his life for a change."

Dilys sighed and stifled a yawn. "The boy needs a chance to sort through his own head before the two of you fill it with your diatribe."

"Would the three of you pipe down?" Everard groaned. "It's two in the morning, and some of us _are_ trying to sleep."

"Then why don't you toddle off to the Ministry and sleep there?" Phineas grumbled. "Since everyone there _loves_ you so damn much."

"Phineas," Dilys cautioned.

The Black family patriarch waved her away as he muttered under his breath and focused his attention on the office doors.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Come back from Spring Break only to have Monday off due to a blizzard. Not only did it give me another day to sleep in, but I used the time to outline the rest of this story. I'm thinking this will end up being 13 or so chapters with an epilogue, and I currently have three more chapters roughly fleshed out. So I've decided to focus more of my attention to this one just to finish it up quicker since it is so much shorter than the other two. **

**Thank you so much to those of you who are leaving reviews and are following/favoriting this story. I love reading them, and if you have suggestions I will definitely take them into consideration!**

**And to the guest reviewer who said, "I think you could write about watching paint dry and it would still be brilliant.": You have no idea how much this made me smile. I made the mistake of opening that email in the middle of my roommate's crisis of epic proportions. So while she was carrying on, I had to keep biting down on my lip and mentally reminding myself that one should not grin like a baboon while listening to someone expressing fears about risking their somewhat-assured future employment on a less-certain-but-slightly-more-interesting Master's program.**

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_"To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken." – C. S. Lewis_

** - Chapter 7 -**

As Severus strode through the darkened corridors, he dared any student to be out of their dormitory at such an hour. He saw no one, but with the distraction of having so many thoughts and emotions swirling about in his head, he could not be certain that he had not walked right past an errant student or twelve.

Wiping his face with his hands, he began climbing the long, spiraling staircase of the Astronomy Tower. Ever since he had signed his name to the petition, doubt and melancholy had clouded his mind, and he had quickly lost any hope that she would ever wish to be involved with him again. He could only think of the times when she did not want him there – all of the holidays and celebrations she had not asked him to spend with her or even when her nosy, decrepit cat had gone to chase rodents in the Great Beyond. She had never invited him to help celebrate her birthday even though he had made sure to send her card first thing in the morning. Granted, _he_ had never sought _her_ company for his birthday, but he never celebrated the day to begin with. She, on the other hand, always spent the evening out with her friends – going to dinner or dancing or a Muggle theater.

Even their second anniversary had been spent on opposite sides of the country. Though they had not spoken in the six weeks prior to it – save for a few quick owled missives – he had made it a point to show that he still cared for her and had even consulted Longbottom when looking for a quality floral arrangement to send her. Neville had inundated him with dozens of hothouse catalogs and seemingly never-ceasing discussion of the minute differences in growing patterns and characteristics of rose bushes. He had just about given up and was ready to tell the Herbology professor just to pick something and send it, when he had by chance spotted the blue orchid in the window of a small bookshop in Diagon Alley. It had been the most expensive flower he had ever imagined – and he was quite certain that the shopkeep was exaggerating the value of its rarity – but it was the one he had wanted her to have. And so he had purchased it without even bothering to negotiate the price – though he had made them discount his accompanying book purchases – and had it sent to her office for he had known that she would be inundating herself with work while the majority of the Wizarding World had started their holiday. He had wanted to give her something that would make her smile, and it pleased him to note that she had kept the plant and that it continued to blossom for her.

As he reached the observation room and stepped out onto the balcony, Severus sucked in a deep breath of air heavily-perfumed by the evening's rain showers. There was a chill in the wind as it whipped the ends of his hair and robes about, suggesting that snow was perhaps not far beyond the horizon. He glanced up at the cloud-covered moon and swallowed a heavy lump in his throat.

Grabbing onto the frigid railing with both hands, he closed his eyes and found himself recalling a similar October night that had played host to the worst experience of his life. He had never imagined that anything could have been worse than learning that Lily had been killed, but twenty-five years later he found out just how wrong he had been.

_Severus rubbed his temples as the staff eagerly debated the decorations for the upcoming Halloween Feast. Unlike his predecessor, he did not feel the need to "out-do" the previous year's charm-work, and so he would only step in if he felt the staff members were going overboard... or coming to blows. _

_"But we did that last year!" Aurora argued. "I want to see something different than floating pumpkins."_

_"But it's Halloween!" Septima replied. "There's _supposed_ to be pumpkins! Hagrid's been growing an excellent crop. We can't let it go to waste!"_

_"We can still use the pumpkins, but perhaps also do something different," Filius compromised, earning nods from several other staff members. "What is it you would like to see, Aurora?"_

_As the Astronomy professor began speaking, the Headmaster's attention was diverted from the meeting at the sudden appearance of a lime green paper airplane in front of his face. An odd dose of anxiety began twisting in his gut as he unfolded the memo, and upon reading its contents, he launched out of his chair._

_"Handle this!" he barked at Minerva before sprinting out of the staffroom and down the short stretch of hallway to the gargoyle statue. As soon as he was in his office and able to disapparate, he spun on his heels and whirled into the lobby of St. Mungo's Hospital. _

_Without pausing more than a second to get his bearing, he rushed up the main staircase and did not stop until he had reached the top floor. When he crossed into the Birthing and Fertility wing, he controlled himself enough to shove his Emergency Spousal Notification into the face of the young witch sitting at the desk. _

_"Where is she?" he asked in concern._

_"Room B-12," she responded calmly. "She may want privacy, though."_

_"What?"_

_The Healer's assistant, who he recognized as a recently-graduated Hufflepuff, shifted nervously under his searching stare and cleared her throat. "She had asked us not to contact you upon her admittance, sir, but we're obligated by Ministry regulations to do so."_

_Before he allowed himself to consider the meaning of that statement, he pushed away from the desk and quickly moved down the hallway._

_"Headmaster!"_

_Severus stopped abruptly as their assigned Healer appeared ahead of him. "What happened?"_

_The tall, greying mediwitch sighed and touched his arm in a comforting manner. "I am very sorry to inform you that your wife was admitted upon suffering a miscarriage –"_

_"What!" he snapped, running a hand through his hair. "But she's already in the second trimester. How could…"_

_When he trailed off painfully, Healer Fairborne nodded in sympathy and squeezed his arm. "When dealing with magical children, seventeen weeks is a very fragile time. Their magical core is beginning to develop and any slight malformation of it or incompatibility with the mother's magic can often cause a permanent depletion of the child's magic or a termination of the pregnancy. It's why the Wizarding birth rate remains lower, and the Squib rate remains relatively steady."_

_The wizard took in a distraught gasp of air and his eyes sought out the door marked B-12. He swallowed back a sob and glanced briefly back to the Healer. "Is my wife –"_

_"Hermione is physically fine, yes," she nodded. "Everything was expelled with no signs of damage. She is resting now, and I want to keep her here for another hour or so just so we can be sure that no complications will develop. It would be best to have someone stay with her for a while, until she's feeling more her usual self."_

_He dipped his head in comprehension and breathed raggedly. "May I see her?"_

_The witch gave a comforting smile. "Of course."_

_Without a further thought, Severus pushed past the mediwitch and moved toward the room. When his knock drew no response, he eased open the door and immediately felt his heart drop to the floor and shatter into irrecoverable pieces. _

_Hermione lay motionless on the bed, her arms wrapped around her waist as she stared at the wall._

_After slipping into the room and closing the door behind him, he softly stated her name. Slowly the witch glanced over her shoulder at him, and he could see the tears rushing down her cheeks. As he stepped towards her, she grimaced and returned her gaze to the wall. _

_Wiping his face in sorrow, he sat in the chair beside her bed and reached for her hand. When she did not pull away from him, he moved closer to perch on the edge of the bed. _

_"Hermione, I'm so sorry," he whispered against her knuckles. "I'm so sorry."_

_When she began sobbing audibly and curled in on herself, he closed his eyes and fought hard to stave off his own tears. He felt completely lost and absolutely gutted – more so than he had ever felt before – as he sat beside her. After a few minutes of stroking her hair, he leaned forward and rested his forehead against her shoulder. _

_Eventually Healer Fairborne returned with a Population Services official who expressed his heartfelt condolences and informed them that they had been granted an extra year under the Bereavement Clause of the Act in addition to the standard two years to produce another pregnancy. The Healer then waited until the Ministry official had left before monitoring Hermione's status and granting them permission to leave. _

_Severus waited respectfully with his back turned while she finished dressing and slipped on her shoes. _

_"Do you wish to return to your flat?" he asked quietly when she appeared in his line of sight._

_The witch shrugged weakly and wiped at her eyes. "There isn't anywhere else I'd rather go."_

_He nodded and gently grabbed hold of her elbow as he guided her into the corridor. "Do you want to apparate or Floo?"_

_She shook her head as she whispered, "It doesn't matter now."_

_Snape winced as he realized the implication of his question. Once she had reached seven weeks, Hermione had been restricted from apparition due to the risk of fetal splinching. Though it would have been quicker to locate a disapparition point in the hospital, he decided it was probably better for her mental sake to walk down to the fifth-floor Floo station._

_Neither of them said a word as they traveled through the bustling corridors, but he continually glanced down at his witch and noticed with trepidation that she kept her eyes trained on the floor. He knew that she was hurting and he wanted to provide her comfort, but, at the moment, she appeared numbly oblivious to his presence. As they stepped into the lift, he seized the opportunity to move his hand from her elbow to grasp her hand which was hanging limply at her side. _

_He sucked in an unsteady breath when she neither pulled her hand away nor applied pressure to his. She gave no real indication of acknowledging his contact, and the only noticeable change of her countenance was that her bottom lip was slightly trembling. Turning his face away, he remembered what the Healer's assistant had stated – that Hermione had not wanted him there._

_Despite the injury to his pride, he kept her hand firmly clasped within his the entire way from the lift to the Floo station. He did not relinquish his hold on his wife until they spun out of the green flames into her flat and she pulled away from him._

_"Hermione," he stated in concern, but she appeared not to have heard him. Instead, she continued slowly moving down the hallway toward her bedroom. He followed a few paces behind her, pausing in the doorway as she gently perched on the edge of her bed. A minute later, she pushed off her shoes and lay down on her side. As she pulled one of the pillows to her chest and wrapped her arms around it, he leaned against the side of the door and stared at the foot of the bed. _

_"Is there anything I can get you?" he asked wearily._

_There was a slight rustling as she shook her head against the pillow. "No."_

_He closed his eyes and rested his forehead on the door jamb. After a handful of minutes, he glanced back at her when he heard her grabbing at the other half of the bedspread and attempting to pull it over herself. Sighing softly, he stepped forward and grasped the bottom edge, draping it over her legs. He squeezed her ankle gently and eyed her suddenly still form. "Have you eaten recently?"_

_"No," she whispered._

_"Are you hungry?"_

_She shook her head slightly and pressed her face into the pillow. "No."_

_"Something to drink?"_

_"No," she enunciated with more force. She sniffled loudly as she looked up at him for the first time since he walked into her hospital room. "I just want… you to…"_

_When her lip began trembling and she trailed off, he frowned in uncertainty. "Yes?"_

_"Could you just…" She took in several short breaths before grimacing and hiding her face in the pillow again. "Just…stop talking, please. I need quiet."_

_Severus pulled back his hand as though it had been stung. His voice was somewhat terse as he stepped away from the bed. "As you wish."_

_When she said nothing else, he moved out into the hallway and closed the door behind him as silently as possible. He then leaned back against the wall and slowly slid down to the floor. Pulling his knees up, he rested his elbows upon them and buried his face in the crook of his arm. _

_He spent the entire night that way, crouched outside her door, periodically wiping at the tears he could not keep back and listening for any signs of distress from beyond the door. He stayed there until dawn, hoping desperately to hear her call his name or do anything to show that she actually needed – or wanted – him there. But when the rays of sunlight peeked through the windows and he had heard nothing more than muffled sniffling, he picked himself up from the floor and hauled his aching body out to the living room sofa. _

_Eventually he fell into a fitful sleep, but woke suddenly at the sound of the bedroom door opening. Blinking slowly, he stood from the couch and paused to listen. When he only heard her use the restroom and return to the privacy of her room, he sighed and collapsed back onto the sofa. Rubbing his head, he knew full well that he could not trust himself to keep together and calm if she were going to continue pushing him away. _

_He would not leave her on her own, however, so he spent several minutes trying to choose who he could trust to stay with her. After deciding that asking a three-months-pregnant Ginevra Potter to sit with her was wholly unfair to both women, he crossed over to the fireplace and placed a Floo call to the Burrow instead. _

_Half an hour later, after managing to extricate himself from Molly Weasley's consoling clutches, he watched her bustle about the place for a few minutes. Then with a long sigh, he picked up a canvas sack from beside the armchair and slipped away to grieve as he had always done – on his own._

Snape cleared his throat as he opened his eyes and felt the sting of the tears that were threatening to fall.

Losing the baby had been painful enough, but having Hermione completely shut him out had been a devastating blow. He had gotten used to the idea of them being an actual family and had made every effort to encourage that development during her pregnancy. He had gone with her to all of her prenatal appointments, had taken her to lunch whenever he had to conduct business at the Ministry, and had managed to spend nearly every weekend with her. He had thought that she was amenable to that, but after the miscarriage, she had not seemed to want anything resembling a real relationship.

And so everything had gone back to the way it had been before. He had sent her a letter to tell her that he would go to her whenever she was ready, and it had been the longest two months of his life waiting for her summons. It had been shortly before Christmas – and a few days after the orchid had been delivered – that her note had arrived inviting him for dinner after the New Year.

Though she had approached their meetings the same way that she had before, it was not difficult for him to discern that it was all an act. Her smiles were forced, her laughs hollow, and her touches somewhat hesitant. At the time, he had chalked it up to grief, but now as he stood upon the balcony staring into the dark void of the night, he could not help but wonder if it also had something to do with him. Perhaps she had realized that he had come to care for her more than she cared for him and she was attempting not to encourage him further. Or perhaps she had simply tried to put on a brave face and tolerate him until the Ministry came to their senses and dissolved the Act.

But had that been the case, why had she suggested one more liaison with him? Unless she had just decided it was the most fitting way to say goodbye? There was a certain parallelism to that concept. Their marriage had begun with threatened unemployment, signing a Ministry document, and an oddly casual sexual encounter. Why shouldn't it have ended the same way?

Severus blew out a sad gust of air and gritted his teeth in determination. He had spent forty-four years alone; he could do it again.

At the muffled sound of a footstep, he cleared his throat and continued staring down at the grounds. "What do _you_ need?"

A familiar feminine snort reached his ears as footsteps became more audible. "I don't _need_ anything, Severus, except to know that you're alright. You only come up here if something is seriously troubling you."

"How did you know I would be here?" he challenged. "Stalking me, Minerva?"

The witch sighed as she stepped closer to him. "Not entirely."

Though he did not turn to look at her, she could see the corner of his eye pinch in confusion. With a quiet breath, she explained. "I placed an alerting charm up here during _that_ year. I came across you up here one night by accident and decided I should keep tabs on you."

"Just in case you had the opportunity to toss me off the edge?" he sneered quietly.

"No," she replied forcefully, before shrugging a moment later. "I admit, the idea had crossed my mind that first occasion, but upon watching you I could see just how broken you were. You did not appear a man who had just pleased his master and been rewarded with a position of high power. You appeared instead as a man who was suffering a damnable task…a man who cared. I could see that somehow you were still the man I thought I had known you to be.

"It was then I knew that something was off. Something had transpired that was so much bigger than we had anticipated, and you were the key. After that, I began noticing how you were subtly attempting to protect staff and student alike. And so I cast the charm up here so that I could both observe you and keep you from harm if need be – whether by another member of staff or…"

"Or?" he muttered when she trailed off hesitantly.

"Or by self-infliction," she sighed, noticing how he flinched at the statement. "I had not yet forgiven you for Albus's death, but I knew well enough to recognize that you were the only thing keeping this school from absolute hellfire."

He grunted quietly and closed his eyes as she placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I guess I kept the charm in place since anyone setting it off would either be a student out after curfew or you coming up here, attempting to cope." Minerva paused for a long moment and then looked at him in concern. "You haven't been up here in nearly a year, Severus."

Several seconds passed slowly in silence before she tried again. "Hagrid told me that Hermione had been here."

He faltered slightly at the statement, and she gently began rubbing his shoulder. His expression became pinched as he felt emotion welling up in his throat once again.

McGonagall let out a sympathetic breath as she glanced down at his bare left hand. "Severus, I am so sorry."

The wizard opened his eyes and looked at her with a moistened gaze. "This would never have happened if it wasn't for you."

"I know, Severus," she nodded. "I know."


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Thanks for your continued reviews!**

* * *

_"There are two basic motivating forces: fear and love. When we are afraid, we pull back from life. When we are in love, we open to all that life has to offer with passion, excitement, and acceptance. We need to learn to love ourselves first, in all our glory and our imperfections. If we cannot love ourselves, we cannot fully open to our ability to love others or our potential to create." – John Lennon_

** - Chapter 8 -**

Severus stared momentarily at the witch who had been his biggest source of support for the past nine years. Minerva had been the one to find him in the Shrieking Shack and had done what she could to save him before summoning Poppy for assistance; she had helped arrange his acquittal by the Wizengamot while he continued healing; she had demanded that he retain the title and position of Headmaster upon his release from St. Mungo's; and she had been his witness at his wedding.

Most importantly, she had been there at the beginning.

_"You know," Minerva quipped as they sat in the library at 12 Grimmauld Place before the Potter-Weasley engagement dinner, "I never would have expected to be grateful to be too old for something."_

_"Congratulations on being elderly," he snapped, tossing down the _Daily Prophet_ and crossing his arms._

_The witch snickered as she sipped her tea. "Now, Severus, don't pout. We'll find you a suitable wife yet."_

_"Oh, goodie," he snarled._

_"Well, with that attitude, you aren't going to charm anyone," she smirked. "War hero or otherwise."_

_The wizard cleared his throat and leaned back in his chair. "That sounds perfectly acceptable to me."_

_"It isn't, however, to me," McGonagall sighed, setting down her teacup. "You get yourself sacked, then I'm going to be forced to replace you – again, I might add – and scrounge up a decent Transfiguration professor from Merlin only knows where. And then what are you going to do? Hmm? You can't even run an apothecary without a Ministry certification."_

_"You can't run a _legal_ apothecary without certification," he corrected. "There's plenty of room for unlicensed ventures."_

_"Severus Snape," she chastised with a glare. _

_He donned an innocent look and then glanced toward the fireplace. _

_"Have you even looked through the match-making section?" she asked, reaching for the discarded newspaper. "If they're requiring anyone with a Ministry-affiliation between the ages of twenty-one and fifty-five to marry, then there's bound to be a plethora of witches in need of a husband – even this late in the game. In fact, they're probably desperate enough now to overlook your personality flaws."_

_"Game?" he scoffed._

_"A turn of phrase, Severus."_

_He rolled his eyes and huffed. "I'm sure they _are_ desperate… miserable wenches that no one else wanted. All the decent ones will have been snatched up by now."_

_"Or perhaps they're just as stubborn and malcontented as you are," she chided, flipping the page to find a long list of personal advertisements. She scanned over them for a while before finding one that sounded tolerable. "I don't recognize the name, so she must have gone elsewhere for schooling, but she describes herself as an intelligent, patient, and considerate woman with a great personality –"_

_"And a hideous face," he sneered. _

_"Severus!"_

_"Well, clearly if she were all of that and even mildly unattractive, she would be engaged already," he grumbled. "So either she's lying or –"_

_"You should not exactly be one to cast stones." When he glared at her, she shrugged and glanced back at the page. "You called me elderly."_

_"You called _yourself_ elderly."_

_"I did no such thing," she murmured. "Oh, look – Rita Skeeter is availing herself to any needy individual. She must be hoping to apply for unrestricted Ministry access again."_

_"I pity the wizard _that_ desperate for options," he groaned._

_Minerva grinned as she folded over the paper to read the next half of the names. "It very well could be you, young man."_

_"I would rather slice off my own testicles and feed them to the Giant Squid."_

_She raised her eyebrows in surprise, but gave no further indication of hearing his declaration. "Penelope Clearwater is intelligent, dependable, and she's become rather pretty in recent years."_

_Snape grimaced. "I refuse to touch anyone who is likely to have lost her virginity to Percy Weasley."_

_"Ha!" she barked, glancing up to make sure none of the Weasleys had wandered within earshot. "I highly doubt that he got anywhere below the waist until the Act passed."_

_"Nevertheless," the Headmaster grumbled, "I refuse to take the chance that his nether-regions were any less eager to prove themselves than the rest of him."_

_The elder woman struggled to keep from laughing and shook her head. "I shouldn't find that so amusing."_

_"You also shouldn't have encouraged him by making him a Prefect and making him eligible for Head Boy," he sneered. "Was there no one else you could have nominated that year?"_

_"I considered it," she mumbled honestly, "but I also figured that the boy was likely to drown himself in the Black Lake if I didn't."_

_"Would anyone have noticed?" he sighed._

_Clearing her throat and ignoring him, McGonagall continued scanning the advertisements. "Eleanor Branstone?"_

_He squinted briefly as he searched his memory for the name and then shook his head. "Absolutely not."_

_"Why?"_

_He shifted uncomfortably and stared at the fire. "Because she was there during my first reign of terror. Even if she _could_ stand to look at me without having an anxiety attack, I would not wish to test her further."_

_Minerva nodded sadly and squeezed his arm. A few minutes passed in silence before she tried again. "Louisa Abbott?"_

_"And be in-laws with Longbottom?" he grumbled. _

_The witch snorted quietly and rolled her eyes. "He's a smarter man than you give him credit for, you know."_

_"Did I not just hire him to replace Pomona next year?" _

_"Fair enough," she smiled. "You wouldn't suppose that Luna –"_

_"NO!"_

_She laughed quietly to herself and glanced back at the paper. "Think of all the Crumple-Horned Snorkacks you could find together."_

_"I'll be sure to have the house-elves stuff them in your bed sheets afterwards."_

_She smirked and then continued perusing. "Emma Vanity is available. The two of you were on the Slytherin Quidditch Team together if I remember correctly. Two years ahead of you, yes?"_

_"Anyone with a broomstick could get a ride from Vanity," he mumbled. "It begs the question if she's even fertile anymore after thirty plus years of constantly applying contraception charms."_

_"Is that so?" she queried, glancing over the top of the paper. "And did you ever –"_

_He narrowed his eyes as he glanced over his shoulder. "I will not even dignify that with a response."_

_"Then I'll assume it a yes."_

_"Then you will assume incorrectly, Madam," he snapped. "Next idiotic suggestion?"_

_McGonagall grinned and placed the paper on the floor. "Well, Sybil's always single."_

_"She's fifty-six," he grumbled._

_"And you would know that why?"_

_Severus sighed. "I had hoped that the Ministry would have reason to sack her again, but upon checking her age, my hopes have been dashed."_

_The witch chuckled and reclaimed her tea. "It does not state that you must marry a witch from within the applicable age range."_

_"Do not tell me you are seriously suggesting Trelawney."_

_She smirked and shrugged with mock innocence. "It would be convenient with both of you at the school –_

_"Stop talking before I vomit in your tea."_

_Minerva laughed and took a slow sip. "I heard Fleur mentioning that her sister Gabrielle was interested in moving to Britain."_

_"Don't be absurd," he scowled. "Is she even old enough to apparate on her own?"_

_"Just turned eighteen, I believe." _

_The man shivered in disgust and glared at her. "You are a lousy excuse for Cupid."_

_"Hestia's mentioned some disagreements with her American suitor," she shrugged. "Perhaps –"_

_Her suggestion was drowned out by the slamming of the front door and angry shouting._

_"I swear on everything that is sacred and holy that I will destroy every heirloom your family has ever owned if you so much as squeak at me! I am not in the mood for any of your foul-mouthed supremacist garbage, so don't friggin' push me!"_

_The two professors looked up in surprise to see a fuming Hermione Granger storm into the room and throw her bag and coat into a pile on the floor. Letting out an angry groan, she adjusted her robes and pushed her wild hair out of her face. "And on top of everything else, you have to try on a stupid, fluffy dress and 'ooh' and 'ahh' over all of the stupid decorations and –"_

_Finally noticing that the room was not unoccupied, she sucked in a calming breath and cleared her throat. "Sorry. Is Ginny here?"_

_Minerva opened her mouth to speak, but was a second too slow._

_"The soon-to-be Mrs. Savior-of-the-Wizarding-World is upstairs with your stupid, fluffy dress and all of her stupid decorations, waiting for you to 'ooh' and 'ahh' like a giggle-headed harpy."_

_Hermione blushed lightly and turned on her heel._

_"Oh, Miss Granger!" McGonagall called lightly, waiting for her to step back into the room. "Is something the matter?"_

_The younger witch snorted and crossed her arms. "You could say that."_

_"Take a seat and have some tea, dear," the Deputy Headmistress cooed, gesturing to the empty armchair beside Severus, who was staring at her in suspicion. "I daresay Ginevra can wait until you've calmed down a bit."_

_As the bushy-haired brunette sighed and stalked over to the seat, the elder witch gracefully poured another cup of tea and snapped her fingers at Snape in a silent command to hand it to the girl. With a roll of his eyes, he acquiesced. _

_"Now, tell us what has happened."_

_Hermione let out a bitter sigh as she grasped the teacup with both hands. "Amos Diggory, who is the Head of my department, called me into the office to tell me that the Powers-That-Be are putting pressure on him and the entire department in order to shut me up regarding my opposition to the Act. Basically, I have to take my marriage lumps like a good little witch or seek employment elsewhere."_

_"Oh, that _is_ terrible," the elder woman sighed. "Is there anything you can do?"_

_She shook her head in frustration and then took a slow sip of tea. "You wouldn't happen to need an assistant librarian, would you? Or is Madam Pince retiring any time soon?"_

_"Hermione, you can't give up your new position," Minerva shook her head. "You haven't even been in that office for a year yet."_

_"Besides, locking yourself away in the Hogwarts Library will not solve your latest crisis," Snape muttered, glaring at his colleague._

_"What do you mean?" the witch asked._

_"The Act applies to all Ministry employees and Ministry-affiliated workers," he replied. "The Ministry helps fund Hogwarts, thus its staff are subject to the same requirements."_

_"And unfortunately for Severus, he is currently the only one young and unattached enough to be affected." Minerva sighed loudly. "We've been sorting through possible matches, but it appears rather hopeless."_

_"Oh," Hermione whispered sadly, daring a glance in the former spy's direction. "I guess that I hadn't considered the ramifications of the term 'Ministry-affiliated'."_

_Minerva sighed loudly and nodded, before folding her hands in her lap and donning a bright expression. "Enough about him, though. Do _you_ have any prospects?"_

_Snape glared at the ceiling as the elder woman began another round of twenty disturbing questions. _

_"Whatever happened to that McLaggen boy? As I recall, he was rather fond of you."_

_"Entirely _too_ fond of me," Hermione groaned. "You can't imagine how grateful I was that you were at Slughorn's party, Headmaster."_

_The wizard raised an eyebrow in surprise as he glanced at her. _

_"Oh, call him Severus," Minerva smiled. "You haven't been a student of ours in quite some time, and you've more than earned the right."_

_"I am glad that I could have provided a convenient target for vomit, then," he sneered, picking up a stray book and attempting to hide behind it. _

_"And what about Mr. Krum?" McGonagall continued. "He, too, was quite smitten."_

_Hermione shook her head. "Married a Muggle dancer a few years ago and is expecting his second child any day now."_

_"And Ronald's engaged already," the woman mumbled, noticing with amusement how they both grimaced. "Any other available Weasleys?"_

_"Not unless I develop a sudden liking for Romania," she muttered. "And if I'm to leave the country, what's the point in marrying? I couldn't stand Australia, but perhaps France or the States? They might want a foreign liaison officer to work with the Department of International Magical Cooperation. But then again, the rumor is Cormac is to be named the Department Head soon since he helped sort that near fiasco with the South American contingency. Granted, he sorted it by getting under the Peruvian liaison officer's robes, but Kingsley doesn't know that, does he?"_

_"No, that won't do," Minerva muttered, patting the back of her hair as she interrupted the woman's prattling. "We can't leave you to McLaggen, and we certainly cannot let you go to the States!"_

_Snape groaned beneath his breath and covered his face with his hands._

_"Well," the elder witch shook her head, "it appears that you and Severus are in the very same situation, doesn't it? Perhaps we'll just have to work together to find a suitable enough solution for the both of you."_

_The man glared between his fingers at the smiling witch. He could practically hear the light bulb flicking on in Granger's skull. _

_McGonagall took a final sip of her tea and then stood from her chair. "I think I shall see if Molly needs any assistance with the dinner. Maybe the two of you could put your intelligent heads together and see what…oh, I don't know…comes to mind. Between the two of you, I'm sure you'll have it figured out in no time at all."_

_ She paused just inside the door and glanced over her shoulder. "Oh, and Severus… Minerva was the Roman goddess of wisdom, was she not?"_

_"Along with magic and war," he replied in irritation, "though one could produce an argument for manipulation!"_

As thunder crackled in the distance, Snape grimaced and looked down at his hands. "This is entirely your fault."

His Deputy Head sighed and placed her warm hand atop his. "We all thought the Ministry would come to their senses much sooner than they did. Besides, I don't recall telling you to fall in love with her. That was all on you."

Snape briefly thought about denying it, but knew it was not worth wasting his breath. Instead he shook his head and glanced up at the sky. "I didn't exactly plan for it."

"Who does?" she smiled, patting his arm. "Have you told her how you feel?"

He shook his head slowly.

Minerva took in a breath and leaned against the railing. "This doesn't have to be the end, Severus. You could see if she –"

"She won't," he interrupted quietly.

"Has she said as much?" she asked, raising her eyebrows in surprise.

Severus let out a breath and shook his head. "She didn't have to."

The witch frowned as she pushed away from the railing. "Well, come on then. I'll fix you a cup of tea."

"I don't want tea," he snapped.

"Booze, then," she countered, only to have him scowl and shake his head.

She sighed and gestured at the sky. "Severus, it's going to rain again and it's three in the morning. At least come inside and glare miserably at my fireplace instead."

When his shoulders drooped even further, McGonagall eyed him warily. "Severus? What is it?"

The man gasped strangely and leaned against one of the arching, stone pillars. He sighed before speaking in a low voice. "She only came to me because she couldn't handle checking… for pregnancy on her own."

"And is she?"

He shook his head and closed his eyes in shame. "But I wanted her to be. I _wanted_ her to be pregnant because then…because then she wouldn't leave. Even after seeing firsthand how it destroyed my mother and sent her to an early grave, _I_ wanted to keep _her_ trapped in a marriage to a man that she doesn't love! Why would I do that? What the hell is wrong with me that I would _ever_ consider that? What the fuck is _wrong_ with me?"

The greying woman stared at him in surprise as he shouted desperately into the dark. She watched him take in several heaving breaths before stepping toward him again and grabbing his arm. She spun him around and poked him in the chest. "There is _nothing_ wrong with you! Except maybe that you're blaming yourself for something that is out of your control. You love her and don't want to let her go – it's a normal response, Severus.

"And Hermione isn't your mother. If she were truly miserable being with you, she wouldn't stay even if she had ten children with you. The fact that _she_ suggested a renegotiation, the fact that _she_ wanted to keep trying this past year even though you were granted three entire years before needing to produce another pregnancy, the fact that _she_ would wait to see if she were with child _before_ signing – all of that suggests to me that she cares for you a whole hell of a lot more than you seem to think!"

"Then why didn't she want me there?" he snarled.

Minerva narrowed her eyes in confusion. "Where? When? What are you talking about?"

He sighed painfully. "When she…when she miscarried…she didn't want me there."

She closed her eyes and dipped her head for a moment. "Did you ever ask her?"

"No." The wizard rubbed his face and then pushed on his temples. "I didn't want to hear her say that…that… We never spoke about it."

"You never _spoke_ about it?" she gasped in disbelief. "Severus, the two of you lost a _child_! How could you _not_ talk about it?"

As he looked away to the flash of lightning in the distance, she folded her arms across her torso. "Did you at least tell her that you don't blame her?"

"Blame her?" he repeated glancing down in surprise. "Why would I ever _blame_ her? It wasn't her fault! Magical cores often become damaged, which is why only half of Magical pregnancies go to term and –"

"I know," she interrupted. "Believe me, Severus – _I_ know. But the question is, does Hermione?"

"Yes! The Healer told us both —"

"It doesn't matter if the _Healer_ told her!" McGonagall hissed. "It matters if _you_ told her!"

She took in a sudden, steadying breath as he stared at her in uncertainty. She then threw her hands up and shook her head. "I'm sorry, Severus. I'm just tired. You can stay out here and brood in the rain or you can come inside. I don't care what you decide to do, but I'm going back to bed."

"Minerva –"

"Good night, Severus," she stated quietly. "And I truly am sorry."

As she disappeared into the tower, he sighed and eventually turned back to stare at the cloudy night sky.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Thanks for your reviews! I will work on updates as soon as I get past this stupid comprehensive biochem exam. Memorizing chemical structures and mechanisms sucks...**

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_"Families break up when they get hints you don't intend and miss hints that you do." – Robert Frost_

** - Chapter 9 -**

As her eyelids slowly fluttered open, Hermione yawned quietly and then smiled at the sight of the midday rays of sunlight streaming through the large windows. She had never slept so soundly – or so long – within the past year and a half. Rolling over, she frowned briefly at the otherwise empty bed, but then glanced at the clock on the bedside table and realized that it was already far past noon. Immediately she felt grateful that Severus had allowed her such a lengthy lie-in.

Her husband had allowed her a lie-in. A giddy feeling spread through her as she stared at her ring for several seconds. Severus was her husband. She knew now that she liked being able to refer to him by that title. It made her feel like she was not alone in the world. She had someone to call her own.

Gracefully, she slipped out from beneath the bedcovers and padded across the floor toward the door she was certain belonged to the loo. With a small smile, she picked up his shirt which had been neatly draped across the back of a chair and clutched it to her chest as she pushed open the door.

"Oh, Merlin," she stammered, eyeing the room with awe. Closing the door behind her, she slipped her arms into his shirt and slowly began buttoning it as she explored the room that was nearly as large as her entire flat. The witch shook her head as she realized that she had forgotten the grandeur with which the Hogwarts castle adorned its restrooms. Folding her arms against her stomach, she peered around a cherry-hued door that stood ajar to find a comfortable-sized water closet with a small sink.

After relieving herself, she reemerged into the main bathroom and strode past the long marble vanity and cushioned benches, through an archway to find a room covered floor to ceiling in royal blue and gold tile. With her mouth parted in shock, she glanced around at the wooden cabinetry with stained glass that matched what had been installed in the kitchen. There were two more cushioned benches in here, and for a moment she had to question whether or not she had accidently apparated to a Turkish bathhouse instead of a room that was only being utilized by a single man.

"Wow," she whispered, swallowing back the excess salivation that had gathered in her mouth as she stepped away from the shower that was sectioned off by two arches that intersected into a single, tiled column. With her breath caught in her throat, she climbed the three steps to the platform where there sat a sunken tub, which was practically the size of the bathroom in her flat and was surrounded on three sides by multi-paned windows that overlooked the Black Lake.

As excitement rippled through her, she leaned against the corner of the wall and stared out at the lake. Taking in a slow breath, she allowed her thoughts to drift to a memory she had avoided revisiting for nearly a year.

_With a grimace, Hermione leaned back against the wall as the remnants of her lunch disappeared from within the toilet bowl. As she closed her eyes and willed her stomach to stop spinning, she was only vaguely cognizant of the front door of her flat opening and closing. Knowing that it was Severus since she had added him to the wards a few weeks prior, she briefly considered getting up from the floor and trying to look presentable. Ultimately, however, she decided against it for fear of unintentionally vomiting on him. _

_"Hermione?"_

_"In here," she called somewhat weakly. She attempted briefly to practice the meditation techniques Molly had suggested to her for calming her stomach, but gave it up when she detected her husband's presence in the doorway. Peeking out through one eye, she noticed him staring at her in concern._

_"Are you alright?"_

_She gave a brief smirk as she opened both eyes. "What? Don't _you_ ever spend your Saturday afternoon sitting on your bathroom floor, wedged between the wall and the toilet with a bottle of mouthwash beside you?"_

_"Not generally, no," he mumbled. "There may have been one or two."_

_"Pity," Hermione exhaled. "You really are missing out."_

_He sighed and tilted his head. "Is it the morning sickness?"_

_She laughed sadly and placed her arm across her stomach, which had just begun to show the hint of a bump. "Biggest bloody misnomer I've ever encountered. They should just call it the 'morning, noon, and night' sickness or the 'don't move, eat, or even think about doing either unless you want to vomit' sickness."_

_"It's not getting any better?" he asked awkwardly._

_The witch shook her head and then immediately regretted the sudden movement. Lurching forward, she grabbed hold of the commode and held still as she waited for the nausea to slowly die down to a more tolerable state. When she noticed out of the corner of her eye that he had moved into the room, she held up her pointer finger in warning._

_"Stop!" she whispered. "What exactly have you eaten or brewed today?"_

_Freezing mid-step, he raised both eyebrows and cleared his throat as he considered his response. "I had toast and jam for breakfast, and a turkey sandwich for lunch –"_

_"What kind of jam?" she interrupted._

_"Raspberry."_

_"Did you have mayonnaise on your sandwich?"_

_"No. I had mustard."_

_She paused for a second before asking, "And what brewing have you done?"_

_"I only assisted Poppy in replenishing her supply of Burn-healing paste since Horace is on holiday for another two weeks."_

_Hermione pinched her eyes shut in concentration as she went through the list of ingredients of that particular concoction. Deciding that none of them were proven triggers of her stomach's sudden desire to empty itself, she relaxed and sank back against the wall. "You can come closer, then."_

_"Are you certain?" he asked hesitantly._

_"Not really," she smirked, "but I guess we'll just have to see if the baby hates raspberries as much as he or she hates apricots."_

_He rocked indecisively on a step forward before finally deciding to slowly approach her. When she gave no indication of needing to expel more bile, he lowered himself to the floor beside her. He placed one hand gently on her spine as she gargled a capful of mouthwash and spit it into the toilet. _

_"How long has this been going on?" he asked. "You didn't appear anywhere near this miserable last weekend."_

_The woman sighed and leaned back against his hand. "I've been nauseous the past two or three weeks, but the vomiting really didn't kick in until this last week or so. It comes and goes, I guess."_

_"Why didn't you tell me you were nauseous before? I could have brought you something to calm your stomach."_

_She shrugged slightly. "It really wasn't that bad then, and I didn't want to bother you. Plus, I meant to do more research on what potions were safe to use during pregnancy before self-doctoring."_

_"Hermione," he stated somewhat grumpily. "I didn't struggle my way through a Potions Mastery program whilst teaching full-time only to later have my wife waste her time researching what _I_ already know."_

_The witch blushed in embarrassment as she looked up at his scowling face. "Severus, I'm sorry. I've been so tired that I really didn't even think of that. I'm surprised I get anything accomplished at work. I swear if I'm not vomiting, I'm weeing. I should really just move into the loo."_

_He sighed quietly and relaxed somewhat as he looked about the room for a minute. "I suppose you could sleep in the tub."_

_She laughed brightly. "Only if you promise to lift me out of it every time I have to wee."_

_When he grimaced, Hermione snuggled against his shoulder and closed her eyes. A second later she smiled as she whispered, "You smell like peppermint."_

_Snape raised one eyebrow as he slipped his arm around her waist. "That's your mouthwash, witch."_

_"Uh-uh," she murmured softly, burying her nose deeper into his robes. "It's you."_

With a bittersweet sigh, Hermione stepped down from the platform and glanced around the Headmaster's bathroom suite. She really _could_ live in this restroom. If she had only known about this room earlier, Severus would have had a hell of a time trying to get her to leave.

As she walked back towards the bedroom, she casually sniffed the inside of his shirt and smiled. It did not smell like peppermint this time, but it did have his normal scent, which she suddenly realized she found just as comforting.

Perhaps they could work something out after all. She had discovered now that she was not the least bit opposed to being the Headmaster's wife if he was willing to keep her. Though, she would have to be cautious about explaining herself so as to prevent him from assuming that her decision had solely been based upon witnessing the magnanimous state of his loo.

Hermione snickered audibly as she momentarily compared herself to Elizabeth Bennet touring Pemberley House and suddenly finding Mr. Darcy a shite ton more agreeable. Wrinkling her nose, the witch realized that she should stop herself before travelling too far in aligning her own life with her favorite novel. Though who could really quarrel with Severus being likened to a character originally thought cold, contemptuous, and arrogant but ultimately shown to be both generous and upright in nature with a sense of pride and a wariness that resulted from having previously been wronged?

That was something else she should never tell him. Not if she ever wanted him to take her seriously anyway.

She blew out a deep breath and pulled open the door to the bedroom. The space was still as empty as it had been when she woke, so she continued moving toward the staircase. She called out his name as she descended into the sitting room, but was greeted only with silence. She frowned as she stood at the base of the steps and glanced around at the otherwise unoccupied residence.

Perhaps he was dining in the Great Hall, she surmised, or working in his office. She debated with herself for half a minute over whether or not to run back upstairs and get dressed. Deciding it was safe enough to just open the door and have a peek into the room, she smoothed down her hair and cut across the sitting room.

The glint of something silver on the coffee table caused her to look down, and she stopped abruptly a second later when her brain registered exactly what it was. His wedding band.

Her stomach plummeted sharply as she slowly circled back to the low table. Upon seeing the spiky flourishes of his name boldly standing out from the divorce petition, she sank numbly onto the sofa. For several minutes, she hardly moved a muscle – barely breathed, barely blinked, barely swallowed – as she stared at the signature.

Gradually her lower lip began trembling, and her hands started shaking as tears stung at her eyes. With a gasp, she snatched his ring from the table and closed her fist around the cold metal. Pressing her forehead against her hands, the witch took in several gulps of air before succumbing to her tears.

Severus did not want her. She had thought by his reaction to receiving the Ministry letter that he had been hurt by her supposed rejection, but that was wrong. It had to be. He had just been angry that she had expected him to go out of his way to end it. That was it. And she herself had proposed sharing a bed one last time simply to round off the number. She had implied that it meant nothing to her, and so he, in typical male fashion, had taken her up on the offer of casual sex.

Cursing her own idiocy, Hermione let out an angry growl and threw his ring away from her with as much force as she could. As she heard it bounce off of some hard surface and roll away, she pinched her eyes shut and held her head in her hands.

_"We might as well see if there's a reason to concern ourselves."_

The witch had been so wrapped up in finding out whether or not she had another chance to be a mother that she had completely overlooked the statement. Nothing had changed since they discussed renegotiations – he was only willing to stay if she were carrying his child. Since she was not pregnant, there was no reason for him to concern himself with her any longer.

Why would he have? Everyone in the Wizarding World – herself included – knew that he had spent his life pining for the loss of his childhood love. Severus Snape loved the late Lily Potter, and he had sacrificed everything in her memory. Why would it have changed in the meantime? Because the Ministry forced him into matrimony with another witch?

How could she have been so stupid? Here she was contemplating the idea of telling Everard to piss off where her marriage was concerned, and her husband was bailing at the first opportunity. He had practically been itching to sign the document the entire night and had been snappish whenever she had asked him to wait. _And_ he had reminded her whenever possible that this was the end.

Why had she expected it to be any different now? This was the way their entire marriage – _arrangement, _she reminded herself—had gone. He had respected their agreement to the letter – one meeting a month and the occasional social event – until she had become pregnant. During those few months he had actually been attentive like a real husband going to all of her appointments with her, spending the weekends at her flat, stopping by her office randomly for lunch, and brewing her Anti-Nausea potions. As soon as she lost the baby, however, everything had gone back to the way it was in the beginning.

She rocked slightly, wrapping her arms tightly around her waist as she remembered lying in her bedroom after returning from St. Mungo's and wishing desperately that he would just crawl into bed beside her and hold her. She had nearly told him as much, but when she had seen the look on his face she had panicked and said the first thing her addled brain could produce. And then he was gone, leaving her to deal with the crushing agony on her own until the morning when Molly Weasley was there to attempt putting her back together.

It was not that she did not appreciate everything the witch had done for her; it was just that Molly was not the one in whom she wished to seek comfort. Severus was her husband. He was supposed to be there to pick up the pieces when she fell apart.

She had wanted him to stay with her, and he had left. It was the same thing happening now, and Hermione again felt as though her heart were breaking in a manner she never thought possible. She had known better than to let herself get emotionally sucked into the arrangement again, but she had without intending to. It had taken her two months the last time – two months to regain control of her emotions, to bury herself in work, and to convince herself that she was only reacting out of grief and guilt – before she could trust herself around him.

But if it had been solely a product of losing her child, then why did it hurt so much now? It had been nearly an entire year since it happened – surely she should have accepted the loss by now. She had been given time, so why could she not move on? Why did it scare her so much to let him go? Because she would be alone? She had been alone before, she could do it again.

Except she had never really been alone before, had she? She had had her parents before she erased their memories. She had had her friends – well, she still had them, but they all had their own families now with loving spouses and children. She had had Crookshanks before he got sick and did not wake up one morning. She had had Severus, if only just on paper.

And in her heart. Despite what Phineas Black had implied, she _did_ care about her husband – about Severus. She cared _for_ him, even. She cared enough for him that if he really wanted to be rid of her, she would go. She would leave him to live his life as he wanted. She would do what he wanted even if it took her another two months – or longer – to keep herself together. She would bury herself in work again, steer clear of social gatherings, and just let him be.

It was what Severus wanted, and she would do it. She could do it. Couldn't she?

She had to. It was just a signature. That was all it required of her. She would sign it, drop it off on Everard's desk in the morning, and go about her life as if the past three years had never happened.

Hermione sniffled loudly and wiped her eyes and nose with the back of her hand. With a shuddering sigh and a shaking hand, she reached for the feather quill and slowly dipped it into the ink. Taking in a steadying breath, she raised it over the parchment and closed her eyes.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: I am working on everything, I promise! Thank you all for reading and reviewing! I (barely) survived my test, and after seriously going Hermione Granger on that thing, I stumbled back to my office and quite literally had to take a half hour nap at my desk before I could think well enough to even read something before a meeting. Fingers crossed while we wait for results.**

**So while I catch up on everything else - fanfics, chores, homework, research, etc - I thought I would leave you with an update in your Easter baskets. Hopefully some of you are having lovely weather - it's actually two degrees above freezing here! - and that the bunny doesn't get stuck in a snowbank on his way to your house. Happy Easter everyone!**

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_"Love does not begin and end the way we seem to think it does. Love is a battle, love is a war; love is a growing up." – James Baldwin_

** - Chapter 10 -**

"Severus Tobias Snape!" Minerva hissed as she slammed the door to the Potions laboratory behind her. "What in Merlin's name _are_ you doing?"

"What the bloody fuck does it look like I'm doing?" he muttered as he tapped a glass stirring rod against the edge of the cauldron and then set it down on the workbench.

She sighed and folded her arms to her chest. "Someone else's job, it seems to me. I was wholeheartedly willing to overlook your absence at supper until Horace told me you kicked him out of his laboratory hours ago."

"I doubt he was complaining, Minerva, nor do I hear anyone else whining about it," he replied, picking up a basket full of glass vials. "In fact, Poppy appreciates when _I'm_ the one replenishing her stores."

"Only because she doesn't have to listen to him prattle on about insignificant things, and because then she can check up on you," McGonagall countered, shaking her head. "Horace is more than capable of brewing Anti-Nausea and Headache Relief Potions during the school term. You have more than enough responsibilities on your plate, and I _know_ that Poppy would not appreciate you using her as an excuse to distract yourself into isolation!"

The wizard scowled as he began decanting the potion into the first vial. "I am not distracted."

"No?" she questioned sarcastically, pointing toward the corridor. "Then explain to me how two sixth-years managed to get half-nude not ten meters from that door, and you didn't do a damn thing about it. I've known you long enough to know that you have an uncanny ability to sense student misbehavior, so the fact that you didn't even bother to poke your gigantic nose out the door tells me plenty about how distracted you are."

As he glared briefly at the door and then continued bottling his brew, the witch sighed and rubbed her forehead. "Severus, why didn't you come to supper?"

Snape frowned as he stoppered one flask and moved onto the next. "Because I had my fill of pitying glances during breakfast and lunch."

"I wasn't –"

"_Not_ you," he interrupted with a sneer. "Filius and the two blubbering oafs."

"Oh," she mumbled quietly. "They're just concerned for you, Severus. They know just how much you cared for Hermione."

"Care," he corrected as he bitterly tossed a rag at the wall. "I still bloody _care_! I didn't stop just because I scratched my name on one ridiculous sheet of parchment!"

The Deputy Headmistress winced at her choice of verb tense, and placed a calming hand on his shoulder. "I know you haven't –"

The man shirked out of her grasp and paced to the other side of the bench. "And who gave you the right to waggle your tongue about my failed marriage?"

"What?" she gasped.

"You heard me."

Minerva scowled, slamming the palm of her hand against the table. "I haven't told a bloody soul, Severus! Not once in nine years have I _ever_ betrayed your confidence!"

"Then why do _they_ know?" he pressed.

"About your divorce or that you love her?" she asked, re-folding her arms. "Either way, I imagine it's for the same reason that I know. Hagrid saw the petition when he escorted Hermione into the castle last night, and I'm sure he told Neville and Filius in addition to myself. Not to mention the fact that you showed up with a miserable expression on your face in lieu of a wedding band on your finger."

He rolled his eyes as he scraped the edge of the table with his fingernail. "I _always_ have a miserable expression on my face."

"No. _No_, you haven't _always_," the witch replied lightly as she shook her head. "You asked how they know – well, the truth is, Severus, you've changed in the past three years. Did you think no one would notice how edgy you get on the Saturdays that you visit her? Even the students have seen you picking at your food and twitching in your seat until you finally allow yourself to leave. Why do you think they behave so well on those days? Because they're afraid that you'll boil them alive if they delay you even the slightest. And whenever you returned from London, you know you actually appeared to be happy."

Severus tossed her an incredulous look and then glared at the row of completed potions.

After a minute of silence, the elder woman sighed and leaned against the edge of a cupboard. "Have you slept at all?"

He shook his head and then rubbed his face.

"You need –"

"I'm fine," he spat.

She frowned. "Severus."

"Minerva."

"Have you even gone back to your quarters?" she queried, "Or have you just been wandering the day away like some abandoned puppy?"

In an attempt to ignore the question, the wizard began setting the filled vials into a wooden tray. Feeling equally stubborn, his colleague cleared her throat.

"Severus, you know I'm simply going to stand here until you explain what it is about your office that is driving you away," she stated with a raised eyebrow. "And you know my knees won't hold out forever."

"Your knees are perfectly fine," he retorted. "I have no doubt that they're in better condition than mine are."

"Fine, then we'll stand here until _your_ knees give out."

Snape groaned and rolled his eyes in irritation. He scowled at the wall for longer than a minute before giving up on his refusal to answer. "I slept with her."

The witch snorted derisively and shook her head. "I had realized that, yes. The two of you obeyed the Marriage Act for near three years, so obviously –"

"Not _in general_," he snarled impatiently. "I meant that I slept with her _then_."

"What? Last night?" Her eyes widened as she considered the admission. "_After_ you signed?"

"Before."

"B-before?" she stammered in disbelief. "The two of you banged one out, then signed the paper and went on your merry, separate ways?"

He sighed loudly in protest of her crass assessment and folded his arms to his chest. "Not exactly."

"By all means, then," Minerva gestured to him as she pulled out a stool, "Explain."

The wizard groaned as he leaned back against a cabinet, but gradually relinquished a summary of the night. He noticed that his friend's mouth had set into a thin line by the time he had finished with, "I have no doubts that she signed this morning and has long returned to London by now."

"You mean to tell me that _she_ was still _in your bed_ – at her own insistence, I might add – while you were moping about up in the tower?" she clarified slowly. When he nodded, she fixed him with a trying look and shook her head in frustration. "Had I known _that_, I would have marched you straight back to your room and bolted the door until you pulled your miserable head out of your arse long enough to tell her the truth!"

"What difference would it have made?" he hissed with a glare. "It's not like it meant anything – she just wanted to even out the number!"

"Oh, you really _are_ an idiot, aren't you?" she responded harshly. "_This_ is why I keep an eye on you when you go up there, because you lose sight of everything but your own negativity!"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Her eyes widened at the question, and she immediately rose to her feet. "What does it _mean_? It means that you keep insisting she doesn't care for you because you're entirely overlooking the fact that Hermione is _not_ a woman who would willingly sleep with someone she didn't care about just to make it an even bloody number!"

"She said –"

"Oh, because _you_ have never said something other than exactly what you're feeling," she interrupted with an eyebrow haughtily raised.

Severus paused mid-protest and suddenly snapped his mouth shut. He took in several deep breaths before shifting his eyes to the wall. After a long moment of contemplation, his shoulders slumped and he rubbed at his forehead. "Well, it's too late now, isn't it?"

The Deputy Headmistress closed her eyes and slowly shook her head. "As long as the two of you are still alive, it will never be too late. But do not use that as an excuse, because even if she does love you, Hermione may decide that waiting alone for you to show up is worse than settling for a family with someone else. And life…life doesn't go on forever, Severus."

She had just turned to leave when she heard him whisper quietly.

"Why would it be any different this time?"

"Severus," she stated, stepping back towards him, "you're tired, and it's making everything seem worse."

He shrugged as he began straightening the tray full of potions. "Or maybe Fate has learned from the mistake it made with my father."

Minerva narrowed her eyes and frowned. "Have you ever stopped to consider that perhaps things didn't work out with Lily because they were meant to work with someone else? You tried everything you could to salvage that relationship, and it still failed. You haven't tried anything explicit to save what you had with Hermione – how can you expect it to flourish if the two of you just stand back, watching as it wilts away and dies?"

She sighed and rubbed the back of her neck as she watched him stare at the flasks in stony silence. "Severus, I didn't risk life and limb to bring you back into this world just so you could waste away in misery. If I'm wrong, and she doesn't have feelings for you, then I will personally supply all the booze or sweets it takes to stop the bleeding and then spend the rest of my days searching the globe for a witch who truly deserves you."

The woman smirked lightly as she moved toward the center table. "But if I'm right – and I have a sneaking suspicion that I am – then I demand at least a middle name."

"What are you doing?" he muttered quietly when she pulled the tray away from him.

"Delivering these to Poppy so that you can go to bed that much sooner," she replied with a pointed look. When she reached the door, she held it open with her foot and gestured to him with her head. "Come along now. Horace can deal with the clean-up since it's his job anyway. Rest will do you good and help you think clearer."

Severus sighed, but relented without further complaint. After grabbing the velvet robes he had shed during brewing from a stool, he paused in front of her and glanced at her with a somber expression on his face. "I am sorry."

"_I'm_ not the one you owe an apology," she remarked softly.

He dipped his head and cleared his throat. "I am sorry that you were not granted the chance to be a mother."

She blinked suddenly and gave a rigid smile. "Well, _I've_ had nearly twenty-five years to come to terms with it. Besides, _you've_ given me enough grey hairs to more than account for my three."

"Three?" he whispered.

McGonagall nodded as they stepped into the corridor and began moving toward the staircases. "One each year we were married. I've seen them in dreams occasionally throughout the years – two boys and a girl."

She trailed off briefly before shaking her head and sighing. "I really thought the last one would make it, but then Phin died and everything went to pot. That's when I moved back to the castle, you remember."

The wizard gave a brief nod, glancing at her in shock. It had hurt enough to lose one child; he could not imagine the hole that would be created with the loss of three _and_ a spouse. "I never knew."

"Of course you didn't," she replied. "No one really did. Albus, I'm sure, picked up on most of it, at least, but you're actually the first person I've told."

Snape grunted sheepishly and the two walked in silence until reaching the ground floor. Before the witch disappeared in the direction of the Hospital Wing, he met her gaze one last time. "Thank you for trusting me."

She dipped her head in acknowledgment. "Just do me a favor and think about what you're letting go. Some rewards are more than worth the risk."

He set his jaw but nodded before climbing the rest of the way to the seventh floor. He was rather dreading the return to his empty quarters, knowing full well that his bedding would still smell of her. Minerva was right, however. He was cognizant enough to know that he needed sleep before he did anything rash. If need be, he could have the house-elves change the sheets and pillowcases, and if worse really came to worst, he could always sleep on the sofa until he was feeling like less of a coward.

As he stepped onto the rising staircase beyond the stone gargoyle, he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. His head was beginning to throb, his stomach was in knots, and he felt completely drained of energy. He took in a deep breath before pushing through the doors into his office.

"Severus , she –"

The Slytherin held up a hand to silence his predecessor's portrait. "Not now, Albus."

The painted wizard frowned, but slumped back in his canvas seat as he acquiesced to the request.

Feeling simultaneously relieved and unnerved by the nosy man's sudden muteness, Snape continued up the three steps and opened the door to his living quarters. After shutting the door behind him, he took a number of paces into the sitting room before stopping abruptly at the sound of something scratching the hardwood beneath his boot.

Moving his foot, he glanced down and narrowed his eyebrows at the sight of his wedding ring lying in the middle of the floor. As he bent down and picked it up, he eyed it curiously and then slowly looked toward the coffee table where he had left it seventeen hours prior.

His heart pounded heavily and his breath caught momentarily at the realization that the petition was still sitting in the middle of the table. Cocking his head in confusion, he slowly approached it almost as though it were a wild animal that could lash out at him without warning. As he neared the edge of the couch, he could plainly see his own signature standing out against the parchment, but the other lines were still blank. Glancing about the first floor of his quarters, he saw no evidence of Hermione having been there save for the broken quill and the small drips of ink on the floor next to the sofa.

Swallowing anxiously and dropping his outer robes onto the sofa, he glanced down at the ring he held and then looked up to the staircase. Hermione would not have left without taking the paper with her, which meant that she was still upstairs. And she had not signed, which meant that she was still technically his wife.

Why hadn't she signed? And why had she stayed?

Questions swirled through his mind as he quickly crept up the spiral staircase, and he paused briefly before quietly pushing open the bedroom door. As he peered in, he could see her still form buried beneath the covers of his bed. He took in a few uncertain breaths before speaking. "Are you ill?"

The witch reacted as though he had poked her with a stick instead of simply asking her a question. A startled expression was on her face as she pushed into a seated position. "Oh, Severus - I'm sorry."

There was a hoarseness to her voice, and he could see that her eyes were puffy and her nose was red as she wiped it with the back of her hand. With the pallor that was currently adorning her face, he could not be certain whether or she was actually sick or if she had simply been crying. Either scenario concerned him more than he would have previously thought possible. "You did not answer my question."

"Oh," she murmured, clearing her throat, "erm, I'm fine."

"You do not look fine," he replied, noticing belatedly that she was wearing his shirt.

Hermione suddenly wiped at her face with his sleeve. "I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't be here."

He narrowed his eyes at the statement, unsure of what she meant by it. "Then why are you?"

"Because I…" She winced as she trailed off and then pulled her knees to her chest. "I'm really sorry, Severus. I tried – I really tried, but I just couldn't do it. I couldn't sign it."

His lips parted slightly as he tried to comprehend her admission. He felt a glimmer of hope surface within him until he remembered what she had said the night before.

_"I couldn't sign without knowing."_

His face hardened at the thought and he crossed his arms. "You're not pregnant, if that's what's concerning you. I cast a contraception charm last night."

"No, I know you did – wait." Her eyes suddenly turned cold as she considered the implication of his statement. "Is _that_ what you think?"

He glanced at her in surprise as she angrily launched to her feet atop the mattress.

"Is it?" she demanded loudly. "You think I was trying to _trick_ you? Get you into bed with the hopes that you would knock me up so I could _trap_ you into marriage? Maybe string you along month-to-month, _seducing_ you repeatedly until it finally works?"

"No –"

"It _is_, isn't it!" she screeched, launching one of the pillows at him.

He flinched slightly due to the force behind her accusation rather than the impact of the soft projectile. "No, it isn't!"

"Well, if that's how you feel, I'll sign the fucking paper right now!" she hissed, either not hearing or not believing him, as she threw the other pillow.

"Hermione, STOP!" he bellowed, ducking his head to the side as the pillow sailed through the open doorway. "If you would listen for one fucking moment you would have heard me say that that _isn't_ what I thought!"

"Then why did you say it?"

He let out a heaving breath and ran one hand through his hair. "Because that was the first reason that came to mind! If that was what was holding you back from signing, I wanted you to know that you didn't have any reason to be concerned!"

"Oh," she whispered, glancing at the floor in shame. "I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing," he stated gruffly, "and tell me why it is you are still here."

The woman swallowed and wiped her face. "It doesn't matter. I had a moment of weakness, but I should just stop fooling myself, shouldn't I?"

"Fooling yourself with what?" Severus questioned.

She shook her head in frustration and stared at the wall. "Nothing. Never mind."

"Hermione, I am trying to understand what the hell it is you're talking about," he stated in exasperation, "but you're not saying anything that makes sense."

"Why bother now?" she asked, shrugging her shoulders. "You didn't before, so why pretend to care now?"

He frowned as he took two angry steps closer to the bed. "You think I don't _care_?"

"I _know_ you don't!" Hermione snapped, gesturing wildly with her hands while moving toward the end of the mattress. "I deluded myself into thinking that you did, but you don't. You don't care that I can't cook! You don't care that I've gotten fat! You don't care that I bust my arse every month to clean every surface of my flat before you arrive! You don't even care that our son is dead!"

Snape froze abruptly as though she had hit him with a _Petrificus_ charm – one that had been cruelly cross-linked with the _Cruciatus_ curse. She could have stabbed him in the chest, and it would have hurt less than her last accusation.

Rage flashed red across his field of vision. Before he could do or say anything he might regret later, however, the man turned on his heel and fled. He could hear her shouting after him, but he did not stop as he all but flew down the staircase.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: I know that you all were so disappointed by the cliff-hanger (and someone's tendency to run), so I hope this one makes up for it. I've changed the rating since I feel like I'm flirting a bit with the fuzzy area between 'T' and 'M'. **

**P.S. I am half-through with the next update to Bound to Him, and I will work on it when I can this week!**

* * *

_"Do not go gentle into that good night.  
Rage, rage against the dying of the light."  
-Dylan Thomas_

** - Chapter 11 -**

As soon as the words flew out of her mouth, Hermione regretted it. She had not even meant it – it had just exploded out of nowhere – and when she had seen how his face contorted in agony, something inside of her snapped emotionally. Her ire immediately shattered into overwhelming fear at the realization of what she had actually said.

"Severus," she whispered as he turned and disappeared through the bedroom door. Her voice raised several decibels as she called after him in a panic. "Severus! Please stop! Oh god, I'm so sorry! Where are you going?"

When he kept hurrying away from her, she jumped down from the bed in order to pursue him. However, since one foot had been tangled in the bed sheets, something _else_ inside of her snapped when she landed – physically, this time.

"Shite!" she hissed as a sharp pain flared through her left foot. Biting down on her lip, she forced herself to ignore it as she rushed after him. By the time she reached the top of the stairs, she caught nothing more than a glimpse of his tall frame storming through the doorway to his office. Setting her jaw, she hobbled down the staircase as fast as she could and then streaked around the furniture on a path for the door. Remembering the steps into the office at the last second, the witch narrowly avoided tumbling face-first into the room.

"Severus," she gasped, slowing to a stop once she realized he was standing still and not rushing for an exit. "I didn't mean that. Please believe me. I'm sorry! I swear I didn't mean it."

The wizard glanced at her angrily for a second before stalking over to his desk and ripping open the top drawer. When she saw him shudder slightly as he stared down at something, she swallowed hesitantly and crept forward, making sure to keep the majority of her weight on her right foot.

"What is that?" Hermione asked softly as she approached his desk.

He let out a long breath before he held it out to her.

A small gasp left her lips as she accepted the photographed Fetal Wand-Rendering of their child. Covering her mouth with her hand, she felt tears forming in her eyes as she watched the shape moving within the frame. She remembered how excited she had been to learn that the Wizarding World had a magical equivalent to the sonogram, and she remembered how many hours she spent watching the repeating pattern of subtle movements.

The woman was suddenly ashamed to realize that she had never considered that Severus might have done the same. Swallowing back a sob, she looked up far enough to catch his fierce gaze.

"I _care_," he ground out, forcefully pointing at the frame.

Hermione nodded slowly and clutched it to her chest as she sank against the corner of his desk. She _knew_ that he had cared about the baby. She remembered how fiercely he had kissed her upon being shown that she was pregnant, and how protective of her he had been after that. For nearly a year, her thoughts had been tortured by memories of the awed expression that had been on his face when Healer Fairborne had finally produced the Wand-Rendering and the unmistakable pride that had appeared in his eyes when discovering that he had sired a son.

So how could she have said _that_? How could she have said something so horrid when she knew better? Because she wanted him to suffer as much as she was suffering? Because she didn't want to hurt alone? That was stupid. It had not been his fault, and he did not deserve to have their loss thrown in his face. She had no right to shout at him...especially about that.

Severus eyed her angered expression with apprehension and swallowed slowly. "I only had it in the drawer because…"

"Because it hurts," she whispered, looking down at it again as she tried to stifle her thoughts. "I keep my copy in the drawer of my nightstand. I haven't been able to look at it for such a long time. Not since right after…"

"Neither have I," he replied quietly. He watched her lovingly run a finger over the glass, and then looked away as he reflected upon his earlier discussion with Minerva. After a few minutes, he sucked in breath and faced her again. "Hermione, I…"

When she looked up at him with a tearful gaze, his resolve crumbled and he found himself unable to tell her everything he was supposed to. He knew she was waiting for him to say something and after mentally fumbling about for a handful of seconds, his eyes fell upon the Wand-Rendering. He convinced himself to at least say something to assure her that he did care and then cleared his throat. "That night was… it was the worst night of my entire life."

Her gut twisting with guilt, the witch set the photograph back on his desktop and stared at the floor as she took a few steps away from the desk.

Having momentarily closed his eyes, Snape felt his stomach drop when he saw that she had turned away from him. He remembered vividly how she had shut him out before, and he was determined not to let that happen again. Swallowing heavily, he placed the fingertips of one hand on the edge of his desk to steady himself before continuing in a softer tone. "I thought I had lost you as well."

With her arms nervously folded against her chest, Hermione looked back at him in mild surprise. "When they notified you?"

"Then," he nodded slowly, "and after you were released."

Her eyes narrowed in confusion as she stared at him. After a few seconds she shook her head in frustration. "_You_ were the one who left."

"What?" he whispered in uncertainty.

"You say you worried about losing me, but _you_ left _me_!" she cried, gesturing at him and then toward the window. "You spent more time with Hagrid when his dog died than you did with me! I was your _wife_, and that was _our_ child!"

"I know that!"

"Then why did you leave?"

"Because _you_ didn't want me there!" he bellowed, leaning across his desk.

Her hands tightened into fists as she took one step forward. "Yes, I _did_!"

He shook his head angrily. "You could have fooled me! You wouldn't even look at me!"

Hermione stared at him as she breathed heavily. "Why do you think –"

"Because you were the one who fucking said it!" he interrupted, slamming his fist against the top of his desk hard enough to rattle its contents.

Reeling back in fearful surprise, she shook her head. "I never said –"

"No?" he queried bitterly. "Then why the hell did the girl at the Birthing Desk say otherwise?"

The woman's eyes widened as her face suddenly paled. "She told you that?"

"Told me that I was _only_ there because of Ministry regulations?" he sneered, moving around his desk. "Told me that my wife would rather suffer _alone_ than be with me? Yes, I daresay she did!"

"That's _not_ true," Hermione whispered as tears slipped out of the corners of her eyes. "I _needed_ you –"

"THEN WHY DID YOU ASK THEM NOT TO CONTACT ME?" he shouted.

"BECAUSE I WAS SCARED!" she screamed back, catching him off-guard. "Because I was in the middle of losing a baby, and I wasn't thinking rationally! Because _in my head,_ I knew that if you were there then everything was really happening, and for some reason I thought that if you weren't there then I still had a chance to fix it before…"

Her voice cracked and she shook as she wiped at the tears streaming down her face. "I just wanted everything to be okay before you got there because I didn't want you to know that I… because I didn't want you to hate me."

Severus stared at her in shock. "Why would you I ever hate you?"

"You hated Harry, and all he did was survive!" she shouted before stabbing herself in the chest with her pointer finger. "But _I'm_ the one who killed your son!"

His mouth parted as he watched her all but crumple in on herself. Immediately he stepped forward and grabbed hold of her shoulders. "Hermione, you can't honestly think that. You didn't _kill_ anyone. What happened wasn't your fault."

"Yes, it _was_!" she protested desperately. "It was _my_ body, my _magic_ that did it! It was my fault!"

"Hermione, stop it!"

"It was _my_ fault!" she continued. "Maybe if I'd stayed home more and not worked so hard or if I had eaten better or meditated more or –"

"Stop!" he interrupted, moving his hands to the sides of her face and donning a pleading gaze. "_Please_ stop it."

"No, you don't understand!" She attempted to pull away from him, tugging at his wrists when he refused to let go of her. "I was so tired, and my back hurt, and my head was pounding, and I was so hungry but whenever I ate it felt like my chest was on fire, and I was just so frustrated because it had been a really stressful week at work because I was jumping through hoops to get the House-Elf Legislation to pass … and I said… Oh, god… I said that I wished I wasn't pregnant because then things would have been easier! I didn't mean it, Severus. I swear I didn't mean it, but the next night there was the b-blood and he was gone and it's all my fault!"

"Oh gods, Hermione," Severus whispered painfully, pulling her tight against his chest and wrapping his arms around her trembling frame. Guilt burned through his body as he realized he had allowed her to keep such a damaging mindset for the past year. He had just assumed that she had understood the situation as he had, and had never considered that she would torture herself unnecessarily for something entirely out of her control. Not yet trusting himself to keep his voice steady, he blinked tears away as he silently held her.

The witch had initially resisted, but eventually collapsed into him, burying her face into his chest as she sobbed heavily. Anguished whispers repeatedly left her mouth while she desperately clutched at the fabric of his shirt. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to. I'm so sorry. Please forgive me, Severus. I didn't mean to. I'm so sorry."

After a few minutes, Snape let out a pained breath and gently smoothed his hand over the back of her head until her sobs gradually dissipated into gasping hiccups. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw that he was close enough to his desk to perch against it. He pulled away from her only far enough to sit and then cupped her cheek with one hand. From this vantage, they were eye-to-eye, and he inhaled slowly as he met her watery gaze. "Hermione, _please_ listen to me. Are you listening?"

With a loud sniffle, she bit her quivering lip and then gave a small nod.

He took in another steadying breath and gently stroked her cheek. "There is _nothing_ for me to forgive. I never once blamed you for anything that happened, and you have to understand that it was_ not_ your fault. I know that you heard what the Healer said as well as I did. These things happen often in our world, and it isn't anyone's fault. You did not do _anything_ wrong."

"But –"

"Stop," he repeated, wiping away a trail of her tears with his thumb. "_Please_ stop blaming yourself. This didn't happen because you said something during a moment of trial. This happened because there was something wrong with his development. There wasn't anything anyone could have done to prevent it, and you have to accept that. Please tell me you understand that."

When she sucked in a shuddering breath and ducked her head, Snape used his other hand to push a damp strand of hair out of her face.

"Hermione, I need you to tell me that you understand."

A handful of seconds passed before the woman hesitantly nodded against his hand. After gasping a couple times to control her crying and wiping her nose with the back of her hand, she flicked her eyes to his again. "You don't hate me?"

The man shook his head emphatically before touching his lips to her forehead. "I could _never_ hate you."

Grabbing hold of his wrist with her hand, she sagged slightly with relief and turned her face into his palm. "I thought you did when you left."

"No," he responded. "I only left because I thought you wanted to be left alone."

She shook her head as more tears began to fall. "I wanted you to stay with me. I just wanted you to hold me and tell me everything was going to be okay."

"Why didn't you say something?" he inquired. "I would have done anything you asked."

"I tried," she whispered, "but you looked like you were angry with me, and I panicked. And then you weren't there anymore."

"I wasn't angry with you. I just didn't know what to do. I didn't know how to help you." Severus sighed as he dropped his hands to his sides. He closed his eyes for a few seconds before grabbing hold of her left hand. He stared at her wedding band briefly and then looked to her face once more. "Hermione, I… I can't even describe how hard it was to see you in distress."

The witch pulled her hand away to wipe her eyes and then wrapped her arms around herself. She inhaled deeply and looked to the floor.

"What is it?" he asked.

"It wasn't _just_ the baby," she stated quietly before taking in a deep breath. "When I was pregnant, I thought… I thought we would be something real after he was born. But I was wrong, wasn't I? As soon as he was gone, so were you."

He swallowed hesitantly as he watched her take one step backwards. "I didn't want –"

"I let myself be fooled into thinking you wanted to be with me, until I remembered that I _asked_ you to be there if we had children," she interrupted sadly.

"Hermione, I –"

"And I remembered that you do as you're asked, and not necessarily what you want."

The wizard winced slightly at the tone of her voice as she reminded him of his own words. He opened his mouth to speak, but forgot it immediately when she gave a muffled hiss of pain after taking another step. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she lied with a grimace as she grabbed onto the back of a chair.

"It's not _nothing_," he countered, pushing away from the desk. He eyed her form carefully and noticed how she was favoring one leg. "Hermione, what happened to your foot?"

She sighed and shrugged her shoulders. "I think I sprained it or something when I jumped off the bed. It's not a big deal."

Snape growled under his breath as he stalked the rest of the way toward her. Before she could say anything, he grabbed her about the waist and swept her up into his arms.

"What are you doing?" she squeaked, grabbing hold of his shirt as he carried her over to the sofa in front of the fire.

"Fixing it," he grunted as he sat down and draped her bare legs over his lap.

"I didn't _ask_ you to do that," Hermione frowned, trying to pull her foot away from his hand.

He scowled as he grabbed hold of her ankle and held it firmly in place. "Perhaps you should have."

"Maybe I would have if you weren't so angry at me," she countered hotly.

"I wouldn't have been angry if you weren't shouting things you didn't mean."

"Yeah, well I could say the same thing to you!" she hissed.

Severus shook his head angrily. "You were too busy jumping to conclusions!"

"So were you!" she argued. "Maybe if you actually _talked_ to me –"

"Maybe if _you_ actually spoke to _me_!" he yelled back.

Hermione glared and folded her arms to her chest. "Maybe if you hadn't pretended to –"

"I NEVER pretended with you!"

"You acted like you _loved_ me, you _arse_!"

"I _do_ love you, you stubborn hag!"

Her eyes widened in surprise as they both stared at each other with heaving chests. "You what?"

"I said I love you!" the wizard stated grumpily. "Might I fix your stupid foot now?"

Without blinking, she swallowed slowly and then nodded.

"_Thank_ you," he murmured, withdrawing his wand from his sleeve. As the room became deafeningly quiet, he gently began prodding at her foot with his fingertips.

"Ouch!" she gasped, wincing when he touched the side of her foot.

"I'm sorry," he muttered with a frown. "It appears you've managed an actual fracture, not a sprain."

"Oh," she sighed, watching him begin the healing charm. As the bones fused back together with a painful twinge, she groaned and grabbed hold of his shirt collar. "Merlin, that hurt worse than stepping on it."

Severus smirked in agreement, remembering having said something similar – though severely less polite – to Poppy decades earlier. Realizing that his wife had yet to release her hold on him, he took advantage of the situation and moved the arm behind her back to better support her.

"Does it still hurt?" he asked as he gently began rubbing her foot.

"No," she replied, leaning her head against his shoulder. "It feels much better. Thank you."

"You are welcome," he stated, briefly touching his lips to the top of her head as he continued massaging her foot. When he moved onto the other foot a few minutes later, she sighed and snuggled deeper into his side.

"Severus?"

"Hmmm?"

The woman took a deep breath and glanced up at his face. "You really never pretended?"

Pausing in his ministrations, he met her gaze as he repeated his earlier admission. "Hermione, I never pretended with you."

Pushing up from the sofa, she stared cautiously into his eyes. "Everything you did – the lunches, the weekends, the potions –"

"I did because _I_ wanted to," he finished, moving his hand from her foot to her kneecap. "I would do anything for you."

"You really love me?" she stammered breathlessly.

"I do."

Searching his face for any sign of falsity, she shook her head in sudden confusion. "But you _signed_ the petition!"

Severus sighed and cleared his throat. "You said that our marriage was an obstacle –"

"You signed because you thought that's what I wanted?" she spluttered before smacking him on the chest. "You didn't even _ask_ me! You made me think you didn't care! What is _wrong_ with you?"

"You were worried about your career!" he protested, grabbing her hand before she could hit him again. "You never said you didn't want a dissolution – you acted like you wanted to sign!"

"Because I thought I did at first. I was supposed to," Hermione stated, sinking against his arm. "But every time you picked up the quill, I felt sick to my stomach. And then when I saw you had, I thought you really _did_ want to be rid of me. I tried to sign, but I couldn't."

"You broke my quill," he sneered softly.

The witch snorted and ducked her head. "I didn't mean to. I just wasn't ready to be alone."

He smirked as he touched her cheek. "Neither was I."

"Then why didn't you tell me?" she asked. "Instead of signing and running away?"

"I was…" The man took in a deep breath as he looked at her hand. "I was afraid you wouldn't… take it so well, and I didn't want to watch you walk away."

Hermione bit down on her lip and then pulled herself forward so that her bottom was more firmly planted on his lap. When he eyed her curiously, she slipped her free arm around his neck and tucked her head onto his shoulder. "We are pathetic, aren't we?"

He gave a soft snort as he rested his cheek against the top of her head. "We're just stubborn and malcontented."

"I'm not malcontented," she whispered with a smile.

Severus chuckled as he leaned his head against the back of the sofa. "Fine, then. You're stubborn, and I'm malcontented."

"I can live with that." She laced her fingers through his and then looked up at him. "You're not going to leave again?"

He shook his head in response. "But I do not wish to stand in your way, either."

The witch's eyebrows narrowed as she sat back and let go of his hand. "What do you mean?"

"It would currently benefit you politically to be legally unattached, would it not?"

With a sigh, Hermione placed both hands on the sides of his jaw. "But what do _you_ want?"

"To be with you," he replied quietly, "whether it is as your husband or as your suitor is your choice. I will gladly accept either role."

Her eyes widened slightly and she moved one of her legs so that she was in effect straddling him. Rising up on her knees, she looked down at him and let out a quick breath. "Would you marry me again if it came to it?"

When he nodded, she smiled and eagerly crushed her lips against his. As she pulled away slightly, he wrapped one arm around her waist and rose to seek out her mouth once more. Snape could feel her eyelashes flutter shut as she slipped her arms about his neck and melted into his body. For several minutes, they continued exchanging ardent, yearning kisses until they eventually broke apart.

An easy silence descended upon the room while the pair clung to each other and attempted to catch their breath.

Without releasing his hold on her waist, Severus ran the fingertips of his other hand along the side of her face. He placed a soft kiss to the corner of her lips before sliding his fingers through the hair behind her ear. "I didn't know you _busted your arse_ cleaning every month. If I had, I would have immediately instructed you to desist."

The witch grinned and rested her forehead against his. "I probably would have ignored you and done it anyway."

"Of course you would have," he sneered softly, staring into her eyes. "And though you are no chef, you _are_ improving. Even at your worst, however, you were ten times the cook my mother was."

Hermione smirked and shook her head. "You're kidding, right? I _burned_ everything!"

"I would much prefer a bit of charring over it still bleeding and mooing on the plate," the wizard replied. "And at least when you burned it, it was still edible. If her meals weren't undercooked, they were one step down from charcoal."

"Seriously?" she gasped.

He nodded. "She was a pureblood witch who lived her entire life being waited on by house-elves. She didn't know how to cook magically let alone on outdated, shoddy Muggle appliances. I don't believe I had a proper meal until I came here – and when I went home again, I decided that I couldn't do any worse than she could."

"Well _she_ had a valid excuse," she sighed. "_I_ just have no talent. Maybe you should take over cooking from now on."

Snape laughed before gently kissing her. "We can work on it together."

"Okay," she whispered.

"And you're _not_ fat," he added.

She wrinkled her nose and looked away. "I'm not exactly thin anymore, though."

"Considering you're still practically drowning in my shirt – except where I would argue is exceptionally desirable," he quipped, tugging lightly at the snug button between her breasts, "I declare your argument invalid. You are incredibly beautiful, and I like it much better knowing that I do not have to worry about puncturing an organ when rolling over in bed."

Hermione smiled lightly and shook her head. "That shouldn't have worked."

"No?" he remarked, raising one eyebrow. "Perhaps I'll have to try something else just so you don't have to admit that it did."

"Mmmkay." She giggled as he pulled her tight against him and then captured her mouth with his. As they entered into another session of kissing much slower and more tender than the first, her hands threaded through his hair while his slowly travelled down the length of her torso. When his fingers splayed over her bare thighs and then pushed up under the hem of the shirt, he paused briefly and smiled against her mouth.

"Hermione, are you aware you've lost your knickers?"

"I thought it a bit drafty," she smirked, nimbly unfastening the top buttons of his shirt before running her hands along his neck and chest. "All the more proper to seduce you with, wouldn't you say?"

Moaning unintentionally as her fingers brushed over one of the more sensitive scars left by Nagini's fangs, he arched his eyebrow before kissing her throat. "Was that your plan all along?"

"Mmm-hmmm," she nodded, pulling his mouth back to hers. A moment later, she broke their lip lock and whispered, "I'm ready for number thirty-one."

Severus laughed richly as he moved his hands to begin un-buttoning her. "As you wish."

His progress, however, was suddenly hindered by a chorus of loud throat clearings and coughing. With wide-eyes, Hermione pulled away from her husband and looked over his shoulder to see a majority of the former Headmasters' portraits attempting to avert their eyes. A few, however, appeared highly disappointed to have had their show interrupted. She was disturbed to note that Dumbledore seemed to fall into the latter category as she caught him giving Phineas a trying look as the Slytherin continued coughing as loud as he could.

"Severus," she whispered, patting his shoulder insistently as she blushed crimson. "Can we –"

"Take this somewhere more private?" he sneered, sliding his hand around her waist and rising from the sofa. Carrying her toward the door to his quarters, he glared over her shoulder at the wall of portraits. "No one – alive, dead, or otherwise – gets to perv after my wife save for myself, and anyone who fails to adhere to that policy shall find themselves taking an immediate turpentine shower. Is that clear?"

At the rumble of acknowledgement, the Headmaster climbed the steps and kicked the door shut behind him.

"Damn," a bald wizard with a frizzy red beard moaned from the top row. "The first exciting thing that's happened in here in a decade, and the lot of you go and ruin it!"

"Oh hush up, Elwyn!" Dilys shouted, rolling her eyes.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: I'm glad you all were excited about the last chapter! There's still a little bit left to this story, so hold on for a few more chapters!**

** Thank you for all of your reviews! I will look forward to your comments to pick me up after today. Six inches of snow fell yesterday along with freezing rain, the interstates were shut down, no travel advised...and I still had to be to University today. Not a single class of mine was cancelled AND I have to get dressed right now in full concert dress for a five minute performance and then change again and rush off to class. Not a happy camper. But my friends got 22-inches of snow, so I guess I shouldn't complain, eh?**

* * *

_"I guess that's just part of loving people: You have to give things up. Sometimes you even have to give them up." -Lauren Oliver_

** - Chapter 12 -**

With a pleasant sigh on her lips, Hermione leaned back in the Headmaster's comfortable leather chair and glanced out the window at the pink light of dawn. She suspected that Severus was still asleep since he had been sleeping so soundly when she had arisen an hour before that he had not even shifted when she touched his face or kissed his cheek. He had still been in the same position after she had returned from her fantastic shower, and she had dressed quickly and retreated to his office so as not to disturb him.

Knowing that there were things she needed to take care of before going into her own office for the day, she had meant to scribble out a note that she would be back in time for supper and then make use of her Flooing privileges. As she started writing, however, she had also started thinking about everything that had occurred the night before, which resulted in her using far more ink than she had initially intended.

She could not help but grin at remembering how he had made love to her and knowing that for the first time she was confident in using that term to describe it. It had been entirely different than ever before, and she realized now just how much he had been holding back. While he had always made her feel safe and comfortable, this time he had somehow managed to make her feel like the most desirable and treasured woman alive. As he had bestowed worshipping kisses and caresses upon her body and had looked down at her with an adoring gaze as they moved together, she had felt an intense feeling of warmth, passion, and pleasure spread through her veins in a manner that she had never truly experienced before. He had never failed to grant her release in their prior bouts of intimacy, but this time she had practically been reduced to a quivering mess of gasps and moans beneath him.

As a blush donned her cheeks and a dull throb settled between her hips, Hermione crossed her legs and suppressed the desire to run back upstairs, shake the wizard awake, and demand he do it again. Wiping a hand over her face, she giggled softly as she briefly entertained the notion of rushing over to tell Ginny that she could stuff it because Snape was perfectly capable of blowing her mind. Deciding that it was not the best idea to wake up the exhausted parents of a six-month-old just to crow about her partner's performance in the sack, however, she shook her head and leaned her elbows onto the surface of the desk.

Glancing to the corner of the desk, she bit down on her bottom lip as she spotted the Wand-Rendering. With a deep breath, the witch reached for the frame and then stared down at the image. As she watched the familiar movements repeat, she still felt as though there were a hole in her heart, but for the first time in more than eleven months, its edges were no longer left jagged by guilt and fear. The knowledge that Severus had neither hated her nor held her remotely responsible for the loss had soothed something inside of her that she had not fully realized was broken.

Hermione exhaled slowly and blinked away tears as she returned the picture to its original location within the center desk drawer. It would take time to heal, she knew, but with Severus's help, she suspected it would happen faster than it would have happened on her own. As she sniffled slightly and wiped at her eyes, she heard a soft throat clearing behind her.

"Madam," Phineas Black stated as she glanced in his direction, "I wish to apologize for anything I said that you may have found insulting."

The witch snorted softly under her breath as she recognized the traditional Slytherin method of apologizing – he had not taken full responsibility for intent of his words, but instead insinuated that she had unnecessarily taken offense. However, knowing that the fact he had taken the initiative to apologize at all was a huge step in the positive direction, she sighed and nodded her head. "Thank you."

"I only knew of what I had seen, and I admit I made assumptions regarding your person," the portrait continued while his painted neighbors all feigned sleep. "I was not aware of the whole story."

Hermione took in a hesitant breath and then cleared her throat. "It's alright, Headmaster. I understand that you were trying to protect him, and I'm glad that he has someone looking out for him. I care for him deeply, but I realize now that I have not given him the consideration I should have."

He dipped his head in acknowledgement and shifted slightly within his frame. "My wife lost our first two sons."

"Oh," she whispered, "I'm sorry."

"I could empathize with Severus's pain," Phineas explained. "Ursula and I had an arranged marriage so it was a strained relationship at its beginning. She absolutely detested me – and I, her – but we submitted to the expectations of our families. Despite the fact we hated the sight of each other, we knew that we must produce a viable heir. Once we succeeded at that, we could spend the rest of our union as far apart as possible. But after our son Sirius was born, I began to appreciate Ursula as a mother and eventually we came to a casual indifference. She bore me three more sons and a daughter, and when she passed, I grieved as a man who had lost his wife, not as one who had been granted the reprieve for which he had so desperately desired."

"You came to care for her," she summarized. When he nodded, she tilted her head. "Did you ever tell her?"

"No," he responded. "She could not let go of her dislike for me as I did for her, and I had no wish to be made the fool."

The woman pursed her lips contemplatively. "How do you know she didn't?"

"I overheard a conversation she had with her sister in which she confirmed that if it hadn't been for the children, she would have fled to our summer home and left me to rot in my own foul-mouthed misery," he answered with a straight-faced expression.

"Were those her exact words?" Hermione asked, somewhat surprised that the Black patriarch would have held onto such a statement for a century.

"Her sister's, but she adamantly agreed."

"Well, then you never know," the Gryffindor shrugged. "Three days ago I assured my best friend that I held no love for Severus, and I tried to convince myself of the same because I feared admitting that I cared for a man who I thought did not care for me in return."

The wizard stared at her for several seconds before swallowing hesitantly and glancing about at his unusually quiet counterparts. He then cleared his throat and looked toward the bottom of his frame. "I see. I thank you for your insight, Madam."

"Hermione," she corrected, feeling oddly saddened by the sudden look of pained confusion in the portrait's face. "And I'm sorry for all of the books, Headmaster."

"Phineas." He took in a breath and regained his proud stature. "And I apologize for my family's treatment of you, in particular, my great-great-granddaughter."

Hermione stiffened as her mind briefly flashed to the afternoon of torture at Malfoy Manor, and she unconsciously grabbed her left forearm as she chased away the memory. Setting her jaw, she glanced away from the wall and let her gaze settle on the center of the desk where a delicate pewter picture frame had been placed face-down. Wondering what her husband had deemed important enough to be seen every day, she leaned forward in the chair and pushed it upright.

"Oh my god," she whispered. While a voice in the back of her mind had cautioned her that she might end up staring at a photograph of Lily Evans, she was both relieved and surprised that she was not. Instead, she was watching a miniature version of herself in a silver gown being twirled about in his arms as a half-dozen other couples moved about the Ministry ballroom. As Severus's image gracefully led her in time to the silent music, the witch noticed something important that had been missing from her own recollection of the evening. With her head resting on his shoulder, her picture-self could not have seen the smile clearly displayed on her husband's face as he held her in his arms.

"Wherever did he get this?" she whispered.

"I believe it came in the post a few months after," Dumbledore answered, finally admitting that he was aware of the on-goings in the room. "The Ministry photographers sent out a copy of their event photos to the individuals featured within them."

Realizing that she had spoken her question aloud, she glanced up at the Headmaster she had known as a student and gestured to the picture. "When did he set it out?"

"Almost immediately," the elderly wizard stated with a twinkle in his eyes. "He only delayed in displaying it until he could purchase a suitable frame for it."

"I didn't even know the photograph existed," she commented with a shake of her head.

The former Headmaster smiled at her from his portrait. "I believe Severus was hesitant to share it because he was not aware that you bore a remarkably similar countenance to his own that evening."

Hermione looked back to the photo and noticed that one could not discern her expression from that particular vantage. She then gazed back at Dumbledore with surprise. "How did you know?"

"I was not entirely certain, I confess," he replied, "but from the current regard you have for the memory, I merely assumed you had found it equally enjoyable."

"I see," she stated softly. "So he was already in love with me then?"

The bearded wizard donned a pensive look before answering her. "I do not believe he was yet cognizant of it, but yes, I highly suspect he was."

With a quiet sigh, she rested her head on one hand. "I wish I had seen this sooner."

As she watched the same dance repeat itself, Hermione wondered when it was exactly that they had each begun to care for each other as more than just partners in a mutual arrangement. She did not know how Severus had come to the realization that he loved her, but she honestly had never considered the actual depth of her own feelings until it had taken her two full months to attempt sweeping them back under the rug.

Closing her eyes, she pondered whether or not they would ever understand how their relationship had come to mean so much more than it had in the beginning.

_"Hermione, what about your hair?" Ginny whined, trailing after her as they pushed through to the lift station._

_The brunette rolled her eyes and waived her friend away. "It's fine, Gin. We're already late as it is. I told him we'd be there fifteen minutes ago."_

_"It isn't fine," the taller witch grumbled as they stepped into the lift. "You look like you've just gotten done with a long, stressful day of work –"_

_"That's because I _have_ just gotten done with a long, stressful day of work," Hermione interjected, adjusting the shoulder strap of her messenger bag and crossing her arms._

_The redhead huffed and mimicked her friend by folding her arms against her chest. "I can't believe you're getting married wearing wrinkled robes, scuffed shoes, no make-up, and with your hair sticking out everywhere. _I'm_ not supposed to outshine the bride on her big day!"_

_The bride-to-be frowned as she looked at her. "I'm about to marry a man nearly twice my age – who was our professor, who used to enjoy publicly humiliating me, and who probably hasn't smiled once in the past twenty-five years – just because the Wizarding World is full of lemmings running off the edge of the 'Population Crisis' cliff. Might I remind you that not only am I _marrying_ him, but I will also be required to have _sexual_ relations with him… repeatedly! All of that, and the only thing you can't believe is my not putting any effort into my appearance for this charade of a marriage?"_

_"Well, not the _only_ thing," Ginny stated with a smirk. "I thought the rest was obviously implied."_

_With a snort, the brunette looked up as the lift doors opened onto the floor of their desired destination._

_"Tell me you're at least wearing naughty knickers under there."_

_Hermione glared over her shoulder at the winking redhead and shook her head in disbelief. "You had better be joking."_

_"Not entirely," she replied. "The marriage may be a charade, but the marriage-bed certainly won't be. You never know, Mione – with the right skimpy, lacy thong-set, you might just put the first real smile on his face in twenty-five years."_

_"Merlin's sake, Ginny," the older witch groaned as her cheeks flushed scarlet._

_"What?" she shrugged as they pulled open the door to the Population Services Office. "I'm just saying –"_

_"Entirely too much!" Hermione protested. "_That's_ what you're saying."_

_The slender redhead was about to offer another comment, when they were interrupted by a familiar Scottish brogue._

_"Merlin prevail!" McGonagall cried, pushing up from the cushioned bench she had been sharing with a visibly irritated – and freshly pressed – Severus Snape. "I was about ready to send out a search party for you two."_

_"Sorry," Hermione mumbled. "I got stuck in a meeting."_

_"It's Saturday," Minerva stated with a raised brow._

_"That's what I said!" Ginny nodded. _

_The bushy-haired witch sighed and rubbed her forehead. "We had to finish all of the interviews before the holiday. We've had a number of resignations lately. Big surprise."_

_The elder woman grunted and shook her head. "Well you're here now and you haven't taken off for the States, which means I'm now ten galleons richer and –"_

_"Might we get on with this farce?" Snape interrupted, rising from the bench finally. "I would prefer not to stand in queue any longer than absolutely necessary."_

_"In queue?" Hermione repeated as Ginny began pulling her in the direction he had taken._

_"Yes," Minerva nodded as she followed behind the other three. "It appears that the two of you are not the only ones who waited until the last possible day to sign a Ministry certificate."_

_"What?" she stammered. "I thought we had until the First to comply with the Act!"_

_Severus sneered as he yanked open the door to the Marriage Hall and revealed a line of nearly thirty couples –with their witnesses in tow – snaking back and forth across the room. "It appears that, in their infinite wisdom, the Department of Magical Census and Population Services shall be closed for the holiday season beginning tomorrow and shall not open again until the Second. And to top it off, they've only scheduled one incompetent soul to work today."_

_"Buggering hell," she snapped as they took their place in line behind a man who looked to be no younger than fifty and was standing next to a girl who was – with any luck – nineteen. Hermione truly hoped that one of them was only there as a witness, but upon seeing how the man's hand was placed possessively at the base of the girl's neck, she rather doubted it. With a disgusted grimace on her face, the witch averted her eyes and glanced up at the wizard beside her. Noticing that he was glaring coldly at the man ahead of them, she cleared her throat to catch his attention. "Maybe you should have gotten in line earlier. Then we could have been done sooner."_

_The Slytherin slowly let his icy glare drift to her before he gestured curtly to a large sign posted nearer the front of the queue. _

**_NOTICE:  
In order to prevent delays in service, BOTH members of the marriage party AND their respective witnesses MUST be present PRIOR to ticket distribution. We thank you for your cooperation.  
Congratulations and Happy Holidays from the Office of Population Services!_**

_"Ticket distribution?" she read aloud in confusion._

_As if in response to her question, a charmed ticket dispenser suddenly appeared above her head, causing her to give a surprised squawk and jump into his side._

_With a snarl, Severus reached up and yanked the next ticket free from the roll. When the dispenser disappeared with a quiet pop, he looked down at the glitter-covered pink slip and grunted. "You'll be pleased to note, Granger, that we're the seventy-eighth unlucky couple to be manacled together this afternoon."_

_"That many, eh?" Minerva muttered, peering over his shoulder at the ticket. "I do hope the Marriage Official does not suffer a stress-induced coronary before we get to the head of the line, or else the two of you will be royally bollocksed."_

_"Thank you for your concern, Minerva," he growled, crossing his arms as they moved five paces forward. "We shall be hard pressed as it is to make it there before _you_ reach your expiration date."_

_Ginny snickered as the Deputy Headmistress elbowed him in the kidney, and then leaned forward to whisper in her friend's ear. "Do you think he'll be any more amiable after you let him shag you?"_

_"Knock it off, Gin," Hermione grumbled, jerking away from the giggling redhead._

_"Well at least _he_ brushed his hair and wore a decent set of robes," Ginny muttered a few minutes later, causing the bride to roll her eyes and give an annoyed sigh._

_Overhearing the statement, McGonagall glanced at the wild-haired witch with a critical eye and then tutted in disapproval. "Oh dear, you _are_ a sight, aren't you? Were you interviewing candidates or wrestling trolls again?"_

_Hermione gave a loud groan as the other two women began tugging at her robes and attempting to smooth down her hair. She begrudgingly tolerated it for a moment or two until she noticed the smug look on her fiancé's face. Scowling, she began slapping their hands away and then brandished her bag as a weapon. "Would you stop it, please?"_

_As the witches sighed and shared an exasperated look, Severus snorted in amusement at his to-be-bride's defensive stance. "Granger, have you forgotten that you do, in fact, possess a wand?"_

_"No," she huffed, letting the bag fall back to its original position. "Perhaps I assumed you would prefer our nuptials be as devoid of foolish wand-waving and silly incantations as you demand your classroom be."_

_Rolling his eyes as the other two Gryffindor witches began chuckling softly to themselves, he returned to his earlier task of staring a hole in the backside of the lecherous wizard in front of him. _

_Hermione noticed the angry expression return to his face and bit her lip as she debated whether or not to ask what was wrong. With a small sigh, she glanced over her shoulder to see McGonagall was pointedly staring off to the side. Ducking her head behind her prospective husband's back, she tapped the elder witch on the arm and silently mouthed, "How old is she?"_

_Minerva sucked in a bitter breath. "Barely seventeen. She was just in the midst of her sixth-year."_

_The brunette's eyes widened and her mouth opened in disbelief. "But the age requirements were set to prevent impeding access to education –"_

_"Minimize," Snape snarled over his shoulder, "not prevent."_

_McGonagall nodded sadly and folded her arms as she continued whispering. "We've been told there was already a betrothal in place, and so to circumvent it being voided by his having to marry elsewhere her family has altered the timing of the contract. We both tried to tell her that as she has reached her majority she has every legal right to allow the original agreement to expire, but she refuses to bring her family any shame. She and her parents officially withdrew her from Hogwarts as of yesterday afternoon."_

_"Bastards," Ginny muttered under her breath, while Hermione balled her hands into fists and shook her head angrily. _

_"This whole thing is utterly revolting!"_

_"You'll hear no argument from either of us," Minerva commented with a heated sigh. "She isn't the only one we've lost."_

_The curly-haired witch took in a deep breath and risked a glance up at her groom's scowling face. Brushing her hand against his elbow, she gave him a sad look. "I'm sorry."_

_Severus raised one eyebrow as he stared down at her. "Do you make it a habit to apologize for things over which you have absolutely no control?"_

_"Not generally, no," she mumbled._

_"Then I would appreciate if you did not start now," he drawled, turning his attention back to the front._

_After a half hour had passed and the foursome had only managed to move another fifteen paces forward, Ginny yawned and then mischievously leaned into her friend again. "Do you suppose _he's_ put on naughty knickers for _you_?"_

_"For fuck's sake!" Hermione cried, attracting the attention of the nearest dozen or so people._

_"That's the general idea, yes," the redhead responded with a waggle of her eyebrows._

_The brunette opened her mouth to reply, but found herself cut off._

_"Weasley, if you do not desist in molesting my fiancé, I shall be forced to either silence you for the remainder of this venture or to simply petrify you and drag you along until your signature is required."_

_"My apologies, Headmaster – I shall leave her molesting entirely up to you from here on out," Ginny smirked, earning a surprised laugh from her former Head of House and a disgusted gasp from her best friend. "And it's now Potter, by the way."_

_Snape inhaled loudly as he eyed her warily. "I prefer to stick with the lesser of two evils, thank you."_

_"I see," she replied slowly as she considered a worthy response. "Shall I remember to give Harry your love, then, Professor?"_

_"If by 'love' you mean 'a swift kick to the backside', then yes," he drawled. "I encourage you to give him my _love_ repeatedly."_

_"Severus, behave yourself," Minerva cautioned as they rounded the first corner in the queue. _

_Ginny snorted and scratched the back of her head. "Well, this ought to make for interesting holiday gatherings."_

_"I think not," Severus replied at the same time his betrothed mumbled, "No, it won't."_

_"What does that mean?" the youngest woman queried, glancing between the two._

_"What it _means_, Ginevra," he replied grumpily, "is that while the Ministry is forcing me into matrimony and procreation, they shall _not_ be forcing me to attend any more Weasley-Potter productions than are absolutely necessary."_

_"But 'Mione's as good as family!" she protested, linking arms with the named witch. "You can't just keep her away –"_

_"He's not," Hermione interrupted, yanking her arm back. "As part of our arrangement, we've agreed to spend our holidays as we would normally do."_

_The redhead grunted and folded her arms. "And what happens when you do have children? You'll force them to choose which parent they'd prefer to stay with over the holiday?"_

_"Gin, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it, alright?"_

_"_If_ we come to it," Snape corrected. "With any luck, the magical population will pull its head out of its arse and realize this was a colossal failure before we're anywhere near that issue."_

_Blowing out a deep breath, Ginny rolled her eyes. "Oh, because they've shown remarkable progress in that direction already."_

_A tense silence fell upon the group for several lengthy minutes. Eventually the women struck up a casual conversation regarding mutual acquaintances and the status of Hogwarts, with Snape periodically offering snide comments. When Ginny and Minerva began discussing the latest Quidditch happenings, however, Hermione quickly lost interest and began to realize just how tired and sore she really was. _

_"Ugh," she moaned, rubbing the back of her neck. "Why the hell did we wait so long to do this?"_

_Severus sighed and rolled his shoulders. "I've been informed that it's because we're stubborn and malcontented."_

_As McGonagall snorted, the brunette glared up at him. "_I'm_ not malcontented!"_

_"Fine," he snapped, "you're stubborn, and I'm malcontented. Happy?"_

_"Ecstatic."_

_"Fantastic."_

With a small smile, Hermione shook her head and sighed. It had taken them the better part of three hours to reach the weary Marriage Official, who barely had the chance to open his mouth before Severus had demanded that he skip the nonsense and just hand over the bloody paperwork. After they had paid their ten galleon fee – which Snape had argued was the biggest crock of the century – they had quickly scribbled their names on the necessary lines, slipped the simple metal bands on each other's fingers, shared a quick peck on the lips, none-too-politely refused the offer of a complimentary photograph, and stormed out of the Ministry. As she had been starving, she had demanded the two of them stop by a Chinese take-away before proceeding to her flat to deal with the awkward issue of consummating the marriage.

A soft throat clearing pulled her back to the present tense and caused her to glance back at the wall where Dilys Derwent was giving her a smile.

"I think there's something else you should see, dear, before you make your decision." The painted witch gestured to the desk. "In the bottom left drawer."

Wrinkling her brow, the Gryffindor bent over and pulled open the indicated drawer. Reaching into it, she pulled out a familiar-looking canvas bag, and tears stung at her eyes as she peered inside of it. It was the bag she had used to hold all of the yarn and knitting needles that Molly had given her when she had announced her pregnancy to the Weasley family. The motherly witch had been only too excited to teach her how to knit magically, but as soon as she had returned home, Hermione had insisted upon learning how to do it the Muggle way.

As she pulled out the half-finished blanket, she stifled a small laugh upon recalling how frustrated she had gotten every time she realized she had either dropped or added an extra stitch. She had wanted the blanket to be perfect, so instead of just accepting the flaw, she had unraveled everything back to the mistake, and several times she had torn the whole thing out and started over. Whenever Severus had spent the weekend, he would sit beside her reading and would snort amusedly whenever she swore beneath her breath and began pulling at the yarn.

_"Are you suffering the impression that our child will be at a disadvantage for having one too many stitches in his blanket?" he sneered, glancing over the edge of his book._

_"No," she huffed. "And it's one stitch too many in the row, which means that every row after that will have one too many until I do it again and then it will be two too many in every row."_

_Snape snickered softly as he turned the page. "Why don't you just drop one then and even it out?"_

_"I don't think it works that way!" she snapped. "Ugh, why is the light so dim? I can't tell which loop is in which row."_

_"Perhaps you should have used the multi-colored yarn, then," he suggested, with a raised eyebrow._

_Hermione narrowed her gaze at him and thrust the pile and needle at him. "Fine, if you're so bloody smart, you put it back on the right way!"_

_With an amused expression on his face, the wizard marked his page and took the knitted material from her. He studied the exposed loops for a moment before slipping the long metal needle through them and handing it back to her with a smirk._

_"Prat," she whispered, shaking a cramp out of her hand and beginning again._

Wiping at a lone tear dripping down her cheek, she smiled down at the soft blue blanket and then gently stowed it back in the canvas bag. It surprised her to realize that she had never noticed its absence from her flat.

"I think he was worried that it would upset you, so he brought it back with him that morning."

Hermione bit her lip as she returned the bag to the drawer. It undoubtedly would have made her cry to see it sitting beside the sofa, and she did not know whether she would have just chucked it out of sight in the closet, or if she would have done something more rash like toss it in the fireplace. She was certain she would have regretted it had she destroyed it, so she appreciated that Severus had had the foresight to remove it from her flat.

"Wait," she paused, glancing back at the woman's picture. "That _morning_? Or do you mean that _night_?"

"Morning," Dilys nodded. "Nearly noon, actually. He looked so exhausted, though, that I doubt he slept a wink."

Hermione swallowed hesitantly and stared at the door to the Headmaster's personal quarters. She had thought he left her flat right after he had left her room, but he had not. It made sense – someone had to have let Molly in through the Floo – so why hadn't she figured it out before now?

There were so many things she had overlooked in the marriage – and so many things she had mistakenly assumed. Covering her mouth with her hand, she blinked away any remnants of her tears and began considering everything again. Severus had left the decision entirely up to her – he was willing to marry her again and had stressed that he did not wish for her to sacrifice her career just to save this flawed attempt. She could start them over again, if she wanted.

He had made the decision exceptionally easier for her. Clearing her throat, Hermione reached once more for the quill and dipped it into the inkwell.

"Hermione," Phineas stated nervously as he watched her quickly re-read the sheet of parchment in front of her. "You should really reconsider –"

"No," she shook her head, "I'm quite certain."

Before the portrait had a chance to finish his earlier statement, the witch quickly signed her name to the parchment and scribbled in the date. Then, smoothing down her skirt, she rose from the desk, grabbed the paper, and made her way toward the fireplace.

"Good-bye," she mumbled, waving to the former Headmasters before disappearing into the green flames.

The Slytherin blew out a disgruntled breath and folded his arms crossly. "She didn't have to do that."

"Severus will understand, Phineas," Dumbledore reassured him with a small smile.

"_That_ isn't the point."


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: I got a wee bit carried away on this scene, so I had to break it up into two parts, which just means I can post this half sooner! It also means that my original estimated length of the story is a few chapters short. I'm thinking there's at least 2 more chapters and an epilogue. I'm not sure that I'll be able to update anything in the next two weeks due to final projects and exams, but I will work on all of my stories when I can!**

**Thank you so much for reading and reviewing, and I hope you continue to enjoy this.**

* * *

_"When someone loves you, the way they say your name is different. You know that your name is safe in their mouth." – Jess C. Scott_

** - Chapter 13 -**

Hermione tugged at the sleeves of her dress, making sure that the scar on her left arm was not visible, and then stood tall as she viewed herself in the mirror of the women's lavatory. Running a hand through her hair briefly, she took a deep breath and plastered a smile on her face.

"I can do this," she nodded. Picking up the file folder from vanity, she held it confidently to her chest and pushed through the restroom door. As she walked down the corridor to Everard's office, she politely returned greetings to the rest of her department. She could feel a number of them eyeing her curiously, but she refused to let it rattle her.

"Good morning, Hermione." A pretty, brunette witch smiled up from her desk as she approached.

"Hi, Anita," the Gryffindor replied, gesturing to the door that was slightly ajar behind the woman's desk. "Is he in?"

"He is indeed," Anita nodded, "though I believe he's in the middle of a Floo-call with the Minister of Magic. I can leave a message for him, if you would like."

"Erm, no," Hermione shook her head, holding up her folder. "I'll just set this on his desk. I won't interrupt him for more than a second or two."

The other woman glanced at the door hesitantly, but shrugged. "I suppose that'll be alright. He did say he was expecting you."

"Thank you," she mumbled as she stepped past the desk and rapped twice on the door before poking her head into the room.

Gregor Everard looked up from his chair in front of the fireplace and smiled at her. "Hello…Hermione."

"Erm, hello," she nodded. "I don't mean to bother you, but I just wanted to drop this off for you to sign."

The wizard gestured emphatically toward his desk. "Of course, of course. I'll file it as soon as the Minister and I have concluded our meeting."

Hermione nodded as she set the folder atop the blotter and then slipped out of the room. She gave a small wave to Anita as she passed and then walked at a determined pace back to the Office for the Prevention of Cruelty and Unfair Practices against Magical Creatures.

As she pushed through the door, the members of her staff all glanced up and then went back to work, except for Marie.

"Hey, boss," she smiled. "How was your weekend?"

"Erm, it was fine," Hermione mumbled hesitantly, causing the younger witch to glance at her in concern.

"You alright?"

The curly-haired witch nodded and cleared her throat. "Yeah, just feeling a bit anxious is all."

"Oh? Would you like me to order you some tea?" Marie asked, standing up. "They're out of Lemon Zinger unfortunately, but I could get you something else."

The brunette shook her head and rubbed her shoulder. "They're _always_ out of Lemon Zinger. But no, thank you. I think I'm just going to sit down for a moment and calm down."

"Mmmkay," her subordinate responded, retaking her seat. "Though I should warn you, you do have someone waiting for you in your office."

Hermione glanced at her in brief surprise, but nodded as she walked toward her own door. Ginny was undoubtedly waiting for a status report, and she really needed someone to confess everything to. Upon pushing open the door, however, she stopped abruptly at the sight of the wizard perched on the edge of her desk.

"Severus!" she gasped in shock. "What are you doing here? Didn't you get my note?"

"The one that stated you'd be back in time for supper?" he queried, resting both palms on the edge of the desk. "Yes, I received that. _That_ is not why I'm here, however."

"Oh?" she mumbled, closing the door behind her. "Is something wrong?"

"You tell me," Severus replied, folding his hands together in his lap. "I entered my office a short time ago only to have Phineas Black shout at me for having myself a sodding lie-in while my wife was off doing something foolish and that if I had any sense in my ugly head I would go after her."

"He did?" she asked, stepping forward until she was directly in front of him. She moved to stand in between his knees when he separated them and, as she placed her hands on his shoulders, he slid his around her waist. Seeing his expectant gaze, she wrinkled her nose and cocked her head. "Well, I really don't think I've done anything foolish, though I do appreciate the visit."

"Is that so?" he muttered, running his hands along her spine. "You're absolutely certain you haven't done anything disgustingly Gryffindor, as he so claims?"

"Not really," she shook her head, before lowering her mouth to his for a light kiss.

As she pulled back, he raised one eyebrow. "You're not really certain, or you haven't really done anything stupid?"

Hermione snorted and then gave a soft sigh. She had been planning to explain everything to him at the end of the day, so she really was not prepared to do it now. But at the same time, as he held her, she was suddenly fully confident in her decision. "I haven't done anything _stupid_, I promise."

"Alright, then what _have_ you done?" he smirked, letting his gaze slowly drift over her frame. "Besides wear an outfit that is entirely ill-suited to the work environment."

Dropping her jaw, she glanced down at her blue dress and then gave him a frosty stare. "It's not _ill_-suited! I'll have you know I purchased it because I thought _you_ might like it!"

"Oh, I _do_ like it," he replied, "but I'd also prefer to be the only one who has the chance to _like_ it."

The witch grinned and ran her hands through his hair as he traced his fingertips over her knees where the hem of her skirt fell. "You didn't appear to notice it when I actually wore it for you."

"I did notice it, though you might recall I was bit preoccupied by other events," Severus commented. "Tell me, do you often wear such tantalizing garments at the office?"

"I don't, but I didn't have time to change this morning," she answered. "And there is no need for you to fret about that moving forward."

"Hmmm," he grunted, returning his hands to her waist as he kissed her neck. "I beg to differ. I think there would always be reason to fret when one's witch is as beautiful as you are."

She felt her eyes flutter closed as he continued, but she regained control of her thoughts and cleared her throat nervously. "As beautiful as Lily?"

The wizard immediately detached himself from her throat and glanced at her with wide eyes. "What?"

"Everyone knows how much you loved her," she mumbled quietly, fiddling with the collar of his robes.

"And that has been bothering you?" he asked, straightening his torso.

She sighed and shrugged. "It wasn't so bad in the beginning when it was just Harry asking questions about you –"

Snape growled quietly in irritation.

" – but then it was anyone and everyone who was even the least bit interested in the heroic spy and his tragic love story."

"I hope you told them to piss off," he grumbled.

She snorted and gave a small nod. "I even hexed the barmaid who asked if you ever cried her name during sex."

"Fucking hell," he grunted. When he noticed she was staring at him uncertainly, he cleared his throat. "For your information, I have never _once_ thought of her while with you. And, though it may be hard to believe, I care for you more strongly than I ever cared for her."

Hermione narrowed her eyes and stared at him intently. "But you faced the Dark Lord for her."

"To keep her annoying son alive after _my_ idiocy got her _killed_," he argued. At her continued look of hesitation, he sighed and grabbed hold of one of her hands. "Yes, I loved Lily – I still do and will always – but not in the sense that I care for you. There may have been a few years where I thought differently, but in hindsight it was merely a matter of limited resources."

"She's your Patronus," she argued.

He sighed slightly and ducked his head. "She was, yes. For a very long time, she was the only light in my life. Besides my mother, she was the only one who ever bothered to care about me."

The witch chewed on her bottom lip as she gently touched his face.

"But now… when everyone from the Boy Wonder to the wanton barmaid cannot seem to keep their bloody nose out of my business," he paused, meeting her eyes, "I find that yours is the only light I could not bear to lose."

Blinking back the urge to cry, she leaned forward and enthusiastically covered his mouth with hers.

As the passionate exchange concluded a long moment later, the wizard gave a small smile. "And just so you're aware, I would do it all again – the Dark Lord, Albus, and the Nuisance-Who-Lived – just to get you your bloody Lemon Zinger tea."

"You would not," she stammered, poking him in the shoulder. "And I wouldn't let you."

He shrugged contemplatively before pushing forward and trailing a fingertip along the side of her jaw. "Perhaps not for the tea, but undoubtedly for this."

As he kissed her again, the woman sighed and then relaxed against him. She could feel his lips curl into a smile when she wrapped her arms about his neck. After a minute or two, she rested her forehead against his and eyed him with heated curiosity. "So what _do_ you think about when you're with me, then?"

Severus coughed in surprise. "Always with the questions, aren't you?"

"You of all people knew that long before you married me," she smirked.

"Insufferable," he whispered, and then tilted his head in consideration. "I suppose from now on I shall picture you wearing absolutely nothing beneath my shirt. Come to think of it, I may pitch all of your pajamas just to ensure a repeated occurrence."

"Oh, I bet I could find some pajamas you would enjoy more than that shirt," she grinned coyly.

"I accept your wager," he drawled silkily, "and will fully fund your endeavors."

"You're damn right, you will," Hermione laughed. "The less they cover, the more they cost."

He chuckled quietly and kissed the bridge of her nose. "And yet it would cost me nothing for you to sleep in the nude."

"That's what you think," she sneered, leaning against one of his thighs. "By the way, you still haven't said what you've thought about _before_ I stole your clothing."

The wizard gave a good-natured sigh and replaced his arm around her torso. "You're not going to let this go, are you?"

"Insufferable, remember?"

With a smirk, he shook his head and rested his other hand on her arm. "Well… I've many times considered myself the luckiest man to have fared so well as a result of the Ministry's sheer folly. I've thought about the pride I feel whenever I manage to make you smile or laugh. I think about how content I am to do nothing but hold you. And when you allow me into your bed, I cherish every second for I fear it will be my last. I realize how privileged I am to be the only man currently bringing you pleasure and –"

"You're the only man who's ever," she whispered breathlessly.

Snape swallowed slowly and met her eyes. "Pardon?"

She smiled shyly and bowed her head. "I've been with three other men before we were married, but you're the only one with whom I've ever actually enjoyed it. I've always felt safe with you, and…"

Hermione trailed off as she noticed the expression on his face. His mouth had parted slightly, and his eyes were practically glittering as he beheld her in a darkened gaze. A seductive smirk appeared on her face as she ran her hands over his chest and nipped at his mouth. "Severus…"

His breath caught as he heard the huskiness within her voice as she moaned his name. "Yes?"

"There aren't any portraits in here," she whispered in his ear while rubbing suggestively against his leg. "We could go for thirty-two."

As he glanced about the office to verify her claim, he slid his hands to cup her buttocks and pulled her tighter against him. "It would have to be thirty-three, or have you forgotten how you fondled me awake in the middle of the night?"

The witch giggled and nuzzled her nose along his. "I'm already losing count."

"Thank the stars," he murmured, running his hand along the inside of her thigh. "I was beginning to think I married an abacus."

Closing her eyes, she bit down on her lower lip as his knuckles brushed against her center. "Severus…"

"Again," the wizard purred, rubbing her through the satin of her knickers. "Say it again."

She swallowed heavily as she processed his request and then clutched at the fabric of his robes. "Mmmgod, Severus."

"Not quite, but I'll accept it," he whispered before capturing her lips once more and pressing his fingers more insistently against her.

Hermione moaned quietly and dropped her head onto his shoulder. As he continued his ministrations, she took in a shuddering breath and tried to regain control of her head. "Sev… Sev'rus… wait… I need… I need…"

"What is it you need?"

She swallowed slowly as he paused for her response. "I need to… tell you something."

Snape arched one eyebrow and peered at her from the corner of his eye. "Can it not wait?"

The witch sighed as she drew away from him slightly and shook her head. "No, I should tell you now that I –"

Her words ended in a surprised squawk as her office door was suddenly thrown open, and Severus instinctively launched forward, tugging her slightly behind him as he withdrew his wand.

"Hermione, what the _hell_ is this?" Gregor Everard shouted angrily, holding up the file she had left on his desk after he slammed the door shut behind him.

As she tried to control her racing heart, the woman cast a grateful look towards her husband but touched his elbow gently to dissuade him from actually hexing the intruder. When he relaxed his protective stance slightly, she cleared her throat and took one step forward. "Mr. Everard –"

"I specifically recall handing you a divorce petition," he interrupted. The normally well-groomed wizard was red in the face and slightly out of breath as he heatedly shook the file. "_This_ is not a divorce petition!"

"No, it isn't –"

"Then do you mind explaining to me just what the _fuck_ it is?" Everard shouted, seemingly oblivious to the imposing presence of the former spy. "Because it appears to me to be a letter of resignation!"

The witch took in a slow breath and placed a steadying hand on her husband's arm when she noticed him stiffening in agitation. "It would appear that you need no explanation then."

"What?" he snapped.

"Hermione," Severus stated softly, fixing her with a questioning gaze. "What are you doing?"

"Sorting out my priorities," she replied quietly before returning her attention to the Department Head. "Mr. Everard, you made it quite clear to me that you were here to remove any weaknesses from staff and that you viewed my marriage as such. Since I have no interest in a dissolution, I'm making it incredibly easy for you. No dismissal paperwork or severance package, just sign and date it. I can have my belongings packed and be out of the office by lunch, and you won't have to worry about my 'Shackle-ist' image tarnishing the new administration any longer."

The elder wizard's eyes narrowed as he stepped forward. "And just what do you think you're playing at?"

Adopting a threatening glare, Snape moved closer to his wife and was about to issue a verbal warning when the office door again opened and was quickly thrown closed.

"Gregor, what the hell is going on here?" The three occupants of the room glanced over in surprise to see the newly-appointed Minister of Magic breathing heavily as he stared down the Department Head. "I told you to get this Department sorted out – not to bully _her_ into resigning!"

"I assure you, Minister Robards," Everard stammered defensively, "I did not intend to bully her into anything!"

With a snort, Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Honestly, Minister," the politician continued. "I conducted a standard review into her qualifications and professional integrity as I did with everyone else, and she just up and tried to quit!"

The Minister's eyes followed the outstretched hand pointing toward the witch. "Herm—Mrs. Snape, is this true?"

Taking in an indignant breath, she folded her arms to her chest. "While I cannot attest to the claim that he subjected everyone in the Department to the same insulting interrogation as he did me, sir, I _can_ tell you that he made it quite evident that if I wished to remain in my current position, I would immediately dissolve my marriage. I have no interest in doing that, so it seems that we are at an impasse."

Robards glanced back at Everard briefly before flicking his gaze between the woman and her husband. "Forgive me for not understanding, but as I recall, the two of you were quite vocal proponents of resistance to the Act. All evidence pointed to your upholding those views, so I do not quite follow your objection."

"While it is true that Severus and I still believe that the Marriage Act was one of the worst mandates in Wizarding history," she replied calmly, "certain other things have changed, and I object to the Ministry having _any_ influence over my marital status or my family."

"Wait," Everard interjected, stepping around the Minister. "Are you _expecting_?"

"Gregor," Robards stated in a cautionary tone before sweeping his hesitant gaze back toward the couple. "_Are_ you?"

Hermione stiffened visibly and shook her head. "No."

"Then what exactly –"

"Because I _love_ him, that's why!" she cried, interrupting her boss. "And he loves me, and _you_ have no right to tell me that I should pretend that our marriage is nothing more than a lie perpetuated to keep our employment! It may have started as such, but it sure as hell is not now!"

The witch was not fully aware of how upset she sounded until she felt a warm hand on her shoulder. As he rubbed her shoulder in a comforting manner, the woman took a steadying breath and glanced up at her dark-haired wizard.

Eying them carefully, the Minister eventually cleared his throat. "Mrs. Snape, if it will keep you here, I see no need for you to dissolve your marriage provided you maintain public censure of the Act."

"Minister, it will still —"

The former Auror held up a hand to silence his subordinate and fixed Hermione with a questioning gaze. "Will you retract your resignation?"

She hesitated for a moment while she contemplated the offer, before straightening her spine and lifting her chin. "I'm sorry, sir, but I cannot."

All three wizards donned matching looks of surprise, and Gawain ran a hand through his short, silver hair. "Well, what do you want? A raise? More holidays? A bigger office? Better tea selection?"

When she shook her head, the wizard looked about the room nervously. "What about a promotion? I'm looking for someone competent to head the Beast Division. You undoubtedly would have been considered for that somewhere in the future, but we could expedite the process a bit."

"Thank you, but no."

Robards frowned and glanced briefly to the slightly younger man beside him. With a casual gesture of his head, he then asked, "What about _his_ job? You could have that if –"

"What?" Everard hissed in disbelief. "Minister Robards, with all due respect –"

"I don't want to hear it, Gregor!"

The witch sighed and closed her eyes briefly as she raised her voice to be heard over the protests of her superior. "Mr. Everard, I have no interest in your position!"

The Minister of Magic blew out a frustrated breath as the other wizard huffed himself into silence. "Well if you'd prefer a transfer, I have plenty of senior-level openings in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."

Hermione shook her head. "I apologize, Minister, but for the time being what I'd prefer is someone's signature on that piece of parchment."

"And if we refuse?" Everard asked bitterly.

The witch tilted her head in mock contemplation. "Then I suppose I would just have to air my grievances in print, wouldn't I? I'm sure there are a number of publications that would be interested in my story even if the _Prophet_ isn't."

"You think you can just –"

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, Gregor," Minister Robards snarled, ripping the file folder out of his hands. He gave the woman a sad look as he crossed over to her desk and snatched a quill from the inkwell. As soon as he finished scribbling his name and the date, the parchment glowed briefly before disappearing into thin air. Smoothing down the front of his robes, the wizard straightened and cleared his throat. "Well, Hermione, I hope that you will be happy with your decision."

She nodded. "Thank you, sir."

He bowed his head in acknowledgement of her and then at Severus. "Headmaster."

"Minister," he replied respectfully.

As soon as the two politicians had swept from the room and gently shut the door behind them, Hermione let out a loud sigh and all but collapsed against her husband's side. As anxiety fluttered through her system, she laughed quietly and slid one hand through her hair. "Oh my god, I really just did that."

"Resigned?" he sneered. "Yes, I daresay you did."


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: This chapter is much longer than the others, but I'm sure you won't complain. Sorry for the delay, but the last few weeks have been busy. I've nearly survived my first semester of grad school - only a few more papers to finish up this week. Once I get those sent off, I'll be working on Bound and Rumored.**

**Thank you so much for reading and leaving reviews! I love hearing your opinions! Now, onto Hermione's plans...**

* * *

_"Desires dictate our priorities, priorities shape our choices, and choices determine our actions." – Dallin H. Oaks_

** - Chapter 14 -**

At hearing his tone of voice, the witch narrowed her eyes in concern and stepped away from him. "You're upset with me? If it's the money, you needn't be concerned. I should have enough saved to support myself until I get another –"

"It's not the money, Hermione," he sighed, rubbing his face. "You could never work another day in your life, and we would be more than fine."

"Then what is it?" she queried.

Severus shook his head. "You should not have done that. You didn't _need_ to do that."

"Why?" she frowned, stepping around the edge of her desk. "Are you saying that, had our positions been reversed, you would have legally divorced me to keep your job?"

Taking his refusal to respond as a confirmation of her theory, she crossed her arms. "So then you're the only one who can sacrifice what he wants for the one he loves?"

The wizard sighed and turned to face her. "Hermione, I said that I didn't care whether you bear my name or not as long as –"

"But _I_ do," she interrupted, pointing at her own chest. "_I_ care! I've recently come to the realization that I happen to like being your wife, and I don't want to give that up just because _someone else_ says I should."

"I had every intention of marrying you again," he argued, folding his arms to his chest. "I could have done things as they _should_ have been done – properly courting you, getting down on one knee with an actual engagement ring, and whatever else you wanted."

Hermione shook her head as she grabbed the back of her chair. "But I don't _need_ any of that. It isn't like the last three years are going to magically disappear just because we signed a piece of paper, so it isn't like we're actually starting over. We've already wasted so much time, Severus. I don't want to waste any more. I don't want to _do_ proper. I just want to be with _you_."

"But I do not want you to give up your other desires when it could be avoided."

The woman let out a sorrowful laugh and gestured about her office. "This isn't exactly what I wanted out of life. I wanted to help people, to right the wrongs… and to make the world a better place. I didn't want to have to play politics all the time… to sacrifice my personal life or opinions just to align myself with the party platform."

Snape took in a deep breath and adopted a concerned expression as he stepped around her desk. "They were willing to overlook our marriage, you realize. You could have stayed."

"Willing to overlook our marriage," she repeated with a pointed stare, "like it's some sort of deformity or misbehavior. And what stories would they have asked me to tell about our marriage just to negate any perceived support of the Act? That we've secretly been involved for years and merely used the Act to bring it out in the open? That I was enamored by my professor, or that you lusted after a student? Or maybe a torrid affair behind the front lines of the War? Or perhaps a slow development, trading soul-bearing letters back and forth while I was away at University until we finally realized we couldn't bear to be apart?

"You know they would, Severus. They'd glorify the shite out of it – twist it into something it's not – just because the truth might paint the Act in a favorable light. I don't want that, and neither do you."

Frowning slightly, he moved beside her and tilted his head. "The werewolf legislation will never pass without you."

"I know," she nodded, rubbing her forehead.

"You're abandoning an entire population of people," he clarified, "just to keep our relationship from being turned into some ridiculous romance novel?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'm not _abandoning_ them. I'm simply delaying them a bit. They've waited _this_ long – they'll withstand another year or two."

The man narrowed his eyes in mild censure. "Hermione, you just _resigned_. That isn't temporary. You didn't just go on holiday."

"Well, it's a bit like an extended holiday, really," she murmured. When she noticed him raise an eyebrow, she smiled and ducked her head. "There's sort of an unofficial rule in politics – it was one of the first things Cuthbert Mockridge told me when I interned with him. When someone resigns _before_ the angry horde demands their head on a platter, people tend to remember them positively even if they have royally cocked something up in the past, and should that someone decide to return to the political realm, they generally re-enter at a much more prominent stage."

Realizing that his mouth was awkwardly hanging open, Snape swallowed uncertainly and leaned against the side of the chair. "This was your plan all along?"

"Well, not _all_ along," she shrugged, blushing. "It started developing in my head while I was sitting at your desk this morning. So as I told you earlier, I haven't really done anything foolishly _Gryffindor_."

He shook his head as he considered her scheme and then rubbed his temples. "Is this even necessary? He just bloody offered you the position of Department Head – there aren't many higher levels than that. Not to mention, this doesn't address your objection to their interference in your personal life."

"Not completely, no," the witch sighed. She glanced out the charmed window for a moment before facing him again. "The way I see it, though, is that I've now made my objections known to the public, and whenever they are desperate enough to ask me back, they will know to bring those assurances to the table – in writing – before they start. I've drawn a line in the sand, and they know that I will not compromise on that subject. It will also aid in showing that any promotion will be attained because I have something valuable to offer, and not because I towed the party line or grabbed onto somebody's coattails as they moved past me."

Severus folded his arms and held his chin pensively. "I wasn't aware that resignation letters were made public, or that any of the Private Proceedings legislation had been overturned yet."

"No, they haven't," she smirked, shifting her weight. "And as a general rule, they're not made public… but on the off-chance that somebody may have leaked something…"

His dark eyes immediately snapped to hers and tracked her movements as she leaned around him and picked up her messenger bag from the floor. After digging through it for several seconds, she finally managed to extract a large envelope. When she held it out to him, he accepted it but eyed her curiously.

"I was going to give this to you tonight," she explained quietly, "but we're discussing it now. It's a mock-up of this month's _Unveiled_."

"That Skeeter bint's gossip rag?" he asked with a pained expression on his face.

"Besides the _Quibbler_, she was the only one who printed any opposition to the Act."

He snarled slightly and rolled his eyes. "Merely because the Ministry denied her access even though she married that miserable old sod from the Muggle-Worthy Excuse Committee."

"True," she acknowledged, "but the _Daily_ _Prophet_ prints only what the Ministry approves, and the _Quibbler_ isn't as well-read as _Unveiled_ due to… well, obvious reasons."

"Must be the Nargles," he sneered.

A brief smile flitted across her lips before she cleared her throat. "Besides, I think motherhood's calmed her somewhat."

"Ugliest child I've ever seen," he growled, slipping the periodical out from the envelope. "Merlin preserve us when the blood-sucking spawn of Rita Skeeter-Leach arrives at our doorstep."

Hermione gave a small grin at his grumbling beneath his breath. "Nothing is official yet, just so you're aware. This is the only copy containing the drafted article, and I have made it quite clear that it will only go to print if you agree to it. If you do, I'll owl it back to her before she publishes this week. If not, I'll destroy it and it will never again see the light of day."

"And you expect that treacherous tart to abide by that?" he sneered as his eyes raked over the cover and were immediately drawn to an old photograph of Hermione ducking past reporters in the Ministry lobby and disappearing through one of the many Floos. His mouth turned down in a grimace as he read the caption floating beneath it.

**_Ms. Ambitious Calls It Quits: No Love Lost For New Regime_**

**_Sources from within the Ministry claim the heroine provocateur resigns in response to marriage hypocrisy!_**

**_See page 3 for the unauthorized excerpts they won't want you to see!_**

"I do actually," she replied, glancing over his shoulder as he flipped through the pages. "Let's just say we've come to an understanding of sorts. _I_ know a certain something about her that she doesn't want anyone else to know, and _she_ is eager to hit the Ministry and the _Prophet_ any way she can."

The man gave an intelligible grunt, and a strange quiet descended upon the room as he began to read. While watching his face for any telltale signs of emotion, the witch crossed her arms against her chest and chewed on her lip. After what seemed like the better part of a half hour, but in reality was only the matter of a few minutes, he snapped the magazine shut, returned it to its envelope, and then tucked it into his robes.

As he stared strangely out the window, she rocked nervously on her feet. "What are you thinking?"

He sighed lightly. "I'm merely coming to terms with the fact that I've married a politician."

Hermione snorted softly and rested her forehead against his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Severus. I don't know what I was thinking. I should have known you'd hate it."

"On the contrary," he responded, slipping an arm about her waist. "I find it to be severely less aneurysm-inducing than her usual pieces."

"Really?" she asked, looking up at him. "I helped write it."

He raised an eyebrow as he peered down at her. "Is that so? And were you the one who described yourself as an over-bearing zealot?"

The woman laughed and shook her head. "She added that little bit after I kept watching over her shoulder as she wrote. So do we print it or not?"

"You honestly expect to leak your own resignation letter and not draw suspicion?"

She shrugged lightly and smiled. "Private Proceedings law or not, this place leaks like a sieve. Skeeter has a number of sources in the Archives Department, so it's not a stretch to assume that one of them has access to the Personnel Archives. My leak will simply blend in with the rest of them."

"Well, it should help put to rest some of those ridiculous questions," Severus sighed after a moment. "And I'm certain it will spark a demand for you to either confirm or deny the claim."

She nodded slowly and placed her palm against his chest. "I don't have any qualms about letting everyone know that I'm yours."

"Nor do I," he replied. "I will owl it to her myself on two conditions."

"Oh?" Hermione tilted her head in question.

He held up his pointer finger. "Firstly, I demand a complimentary, autographed copy of _The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore_ –"

"Whatever for?"

"To be put on display in my office," he smirked impishly. "I think it may prove a worthwhile conversation piece."

His wife closed her eyes and snickered briefly as she pictured the expression on Dumbledore's portrait-face that would result from having to stare at his own critical biography every day. "Alright, I think that would be manageable. Your second demand?"

A wicked gleam appeared in his eye as he spoke quietly into her ear. "I request that my scheming… manipulative… over-bearing… zealot of a wife be present, _naked_, and willing in _my_ _bed_ every night for the rest of the week."

As a shiver ran through her body, she slid her hands through the hair at the nape of his neck and stared directly into his eyes. "Make it a fortnight, and we have a deal."

"Done," he whispered, pressing her body against the edge of her desk. "Remind me to thank whoever taught you how to negotiate."

Hermione giggled as he placed both hands on the desk and leaned into her. As his lips hungrily descended upon hers, she sighed and raised one knee, resting it against his upper thigh. Opening her mouth to allow him better access, she crossed her arms behind his neck and pulled herself even closer to his body.

"Hey, boss?" A voice interrupted hesitantly as the door was slowly opened. "I don't mean to pry, but – Oh, Merlin's balls! I'm sorry!"

As Severus lifted his head to glare at the slender blonde woman who was desperately trying to close the door and disappear, Hermione tipped her head back and cleared her throat. "Marie, is there something you need?"

"Erm, nope," the younger witch mumbled, purposely staring at the floor. "No, it can definitely wait."

"Just hold on," the brunette instructed, tapping her husband on the shoulder and then straightening her skirt as he stepped away from her. Smoothing her hands over her hair, she took in a deep breath and addressed her former employee, who was blushing furiously. "What is it?"

Marie hesitantly glanced out of the corner of her eye before turning to face them. "Sorry. I didn't mean to…disturb anything, but well, we've all been trying to figure out what's going on – with the Minister and Blowhard storming in here like their pants were on fire – and the rest of the chicken-shits elected that _I_ come ask you. You haven't gotten the sack, have you?"

With a small smile, the Gryffindor shook her head. "I haven't been sacked."

"Oh, good –"

"I've resigned."

"Fuck." The blonde frowned and rubbed the back of her neck. "Did they _ask_ you to resign, or did you resign on your own?"

"On my own," Hermione replied.

"Okay, now have you _actually_ resigned, or have you just _resigned_?"

At Snape's disbelieving snort, his wife grinned. "I'm counting on you to keep the place together in the meantime."

"Oh, thank Merlin," Marie sighed, sagging against the door. "You had me worried, boss."

"Preposterous," the wizard muttered, dropping into the desk chair. "Is that all, Miss Zeller? I apologize if that title no longer applies to you, but I have not exactly kept up with the onslaught of surname changes."

The blonde smiled and shook her head slightly. "No worries, sir. I've recently reclaimed the title – Mrs. Dawlish never suited me. The in-laws agreed, but at least Julian and I are still friends."

He arched one eyebrow and rested his forearms on the arms of the chair. "_You_ married _Julian_ Dawlish? And actually managed consummation?"

"Severus!" Hermione warned, glaring over her shoulder.

"It's alright, boss," Marie chuckled with a blush. "Merlin, I never expected to discuss this with my Headmaster, but yes… we… managed. It was a challenge, but still accomplished. How did _you_ know he's –"

"A wand-fondler?" he supplied.

"Severus!" his wife hissed, grabbing hold a book and swatting him on the arm with it.

The wizard shrugged off the blow with an amused expression on his face and cocked his head. "One does not tend to forget having his arse animatedly appraised by any student, let alone one of the same gender."

"Oh, gods," Marie groaned, covering her face. "He had such a thing for you, too."

"What?" Hermione whispered in shock, failing to hide the jealous glint in her eye. "You're joking!"

The younger witch shook her head. "There's a reason I kept him away from the office. I figured he'd interrogate you endlessly, boss. I can't believe you knew about it, sir!"

Snape rested his head upon his hand. "The boy was a Hufflepuff, not a Slytherin. Subtlety is not in his repertoire."

"Well, you should be safe for now, sir," she winked. "He's been seeing someone for months and is about to go public with it. I'm sure that's another thing his father will blame me for. I'm definitely not on John Dawlish's Christmas card list anymore."

"Nor am I," the man smirked. "Though, he is on mine."

Hermione raised one eyebrow as she looked at her husband quizzically. "Why? And since when do you send out Christmas cards?"

"The man has attempted to arrest me twice and once succeeded in personally escorting me to Azkaban, so I think it only fair to continuously remind him of how much I am enjoying my freedom," he replied with a casual shrug. "And Minerva sends out the cards. I merely provide her a list of names and relevant levels of condescension to be included within the message."

"You are incorrigible." She shook her head and returned her attention to the woman in the doorway. "Is there anything else you needed, Marie?"

"What about the werewolf legislation?"

The brunette gave a tight smile and scratched her eyebrow. "Manage the best you can."

"The _absolute_ best I can?" Marie quipped, tilting her head with a sly grin. "I expect we might struggle a bit without adequate leadership."

"Well, if you do, you do," the older witch smirked.

"And this?" the blonde queried, gesturing between the couple. "Did I see this?"

Hermione snorted softly and glanced back at her husband, who was watching the pair of them with obvious interest. "Of course you saw it, though you should try keeping it to yourself."

"I see," Marie nodded, reaching for the door handle. "I will do my _absolute_ _best_ to keep quiet. Good day, boss. Headmaster."

As the door clicked shut, Severus continued eyeing his wife. "She's going to run her mouth, isn't she?"

"Perhaps," she smirked, stepping towards him and perching on his lap. "It'll give further credence to Skeeter's article."

"I suppose it would," he sighed, resting his hand on her knee. "Now, with you running around poking holes in the Ministry's foundation, how can you guarantee that they'll even want you back? Not that I haven't enjoyed everything you've worked out so far, but it may all be for naught if your endgame is flawed."

The witch gave a sly grin and leaned back against his shoulder. "It all hinges on Robards. He hasn't thrown his weight behind it yet because he's still getting his feet wet, but he wants the werewolf rights bill to pass. His brother-in-law was bitten during the War, and his sister will be breathing down his neck sooner rather than later. I'm not sure he realizes yet just how difficult it was to get it past the Wizengamot even _with_ all of Kingsley's appointees supporting it. Now that he's replaced half of the council, it basically sent everything back to square one. After it flounders about for a year or two, he'll need me back. Then I'll have the upper hand and can choose whether or not I return to office."

When he grunted in contemplation, she sighed. "Plus, Ginny thinks he's enamored with me."

"What?" he snapped, glaring at the door as though the wizard in question were standing on the other side of it.

"According to Harry, he was planning on proposing to me even though the Act didn't apply to him," Hermione stated matter-of-factly, "but then _we_ announced our engagement, and he found some other damsel to rescue."

"He's far too old for you," he grumbled.

His wife glanced at him oddly and raised one eyebrow. "The same could be said about you."

Snape gave an affronted grunt. "I am practically old enough to be your father, yes, but _he_ is literally old enough to be… Christ, he's more than old enough to be _my_ father."

The woman giggled bemusedly and kissed his cheek. "Severus, I'm no more going to run after him than you are Julian Dawlish. I have no interest in him personally, and I have absolutely no interest in being the Minister's wife. Unless you suddenly adopt political aspirations, in which case I would gladly follow you to the top."

"Don't be absurd," he muttered beneath his breath.

"Then 'Headmaster's wife' will just have to suffice, won't it?" she smirked, tucking her head beneath his jaw.

"Indeed," he replied, slipping his arms around her frame. "And with all the effort you're putting into emotionally black-mailing the Minister, thwarting his administration, and violating Wizengamot statutes, it had better suffice for some time."

"I think it might," Hermione smiled against his chest.

He shook his head in astonishment. "Merlin, forget the politician, I've married a bloody criminal."

She bit her lip hesitantly as she peered up at him. "Well, I've often heard the two were synonymous."

When he grunted in agreement, she paused for a minute before she dared whisper, "So, are you upset with me?"

Severus's chest rose prominently as he took in a deep breath. "To be honest, I cannot quite decide whether I should yell at you or reverently carry you out of here."

The witch laughed in mild relief and sat upright. "I'd settle for help in carrying my things instead."

Her husband gave a brief nod and then glanced at the clock. "I suppose we had best begin if we wish to honor your vow of being out of here by lunch."

"I suppose," she sighed, rising from his lap. "Do you need to return to the school then, or can I elicit your help in clearing out my flat as well? Since technically I'm no longer eligible for residence in the building."

"I am certain that Minerva has already concluded that I am away and will have assumed responsibility," Snape replied, standing from the chair. "And I have no doubt that Albus went gossiping the moment I Flooed out of the office, so she will only contact me in the case of emergency."

Hermione narrowed her brow. "I thought the portraits were duty bound to keep the Headmaster's privacy."

The dark-haired wizard snorted and fixed her with pointed look. "And when have you ever known Albus Dumbledore to respect rules or regulations?"

"Point taken," she smirked, glancing about the room as she decided upon the best strategy to begin packing. The file cabinets only held departmental documents, which were to remain in the possession of whoever assumed her position. With a sigh, she silently prayed that Marie's youth would keep her from consideration, since it would undoubtedly reflect poorly on the witch's career were she to appear to struggle under the weight of failing legislation and then be replaced shortly by her predecessor.

"I do not believe it is _that_ insurmountable," he murmured quietly, mistaking the idea of packing to be the cause of her sudden look of melancholy.

Though she knew that he was referring to the task before them presently, it still seemed to soothe the woman's real concerns. As her husband moved to stand behind her, she cast him an appreciative smile and quickly slipped her arms about his waist. She sighed a brief word of thanks and then continued in her visual assessment of the space. The majority of the books on the shelf were hers personally and there was a modest collection of belongings in her desk, but little else.

For nearly four years, this room had been the epitome of her life. She had spent more time here than she had anywhere else – her flat included – and it had served as an escape from the rest of her life whenever she had needed it. She had slaved away countless hours here, immersing herself in policy and legislation to stave off the emotional wasteland that had become her personal life. It had always been her method of coping – when Ron had grown weary of playing second string to her university coursework, when her other relationships had fizzled into nothingness, when Crookshanks had died, when she could not bear to think about Severus and their lost child – to bury herself in work.

But even when she should have been enjoying things, the office had come first. It had not just been her 'wedding' that she had squeezed in when she thought she could manage, but her entire marriage. _She_ had been the one who had relegated Severus to one Saturday a month – fitting him in between her work and ovulation schedules. And her pregnancy – as excited as she had been to be a mother, she had not bothered to make that her priority. How many appointments had she rescheduled on short notice, jostling not only Healer Fairborne's timetable, but Severus's as well? How many evenings had she kept plugging away at revisions and research, ignoring her aching body and drooping eyelids, when she should have been putting her feet up and relaxing at home?

For nearly four years, this office had represented her greatest success in life. At twenty-four, she had been the youngest witch ever to be appointed to head her own departmental office, which she had helped design, and she had been on-track to be one of the most influential radical legislators the Wizarding World had seen in decades, if not centuries. But what did she really have to show for it? A shelf-full of books, a few drawers' worth of office supplies, and a stack of half-hearted notes of congratulations from colleagues.

"Hermione?" Snape addressed softly, somewhat concerned by the tension in his wife's body as she continued to cling to him. "Is there something wrong?"

The woman cleared her throat as she chased away her thoughts and memories. Mentally determining that she would treat her resignation as a means of transfiguring her prerogatives, she took in a deep breath and glanced up at him. "Not anymore."

He raised one eyebrow in response. "Are you certain?"

"Yes," she nodded, finally releasing him. She rubbed her forehead and then glanced back at her desk. Her brow narrowed in confusion as she slowly lowered her hand to her side. "Severus, why am I staring at a bottle of champagne?"

The wizard shrugged casually as he leaned against a file cabinet. "Was it not agreed upon that I owed you a bottle?"

"Well, yes, but I didn't expect you to make good on it immediately."

"Nor did I," he replied with a smug grin on his face, "but who be I to pass up the offer of free booze on behalf of the Ministry?"

Hermione picked up the bottle and glanced up at him with a curious expression. "The Ministry is handing out bottles of champagne?"

"To all happily divorced couples," he nodded, "as a means of apology, I suppose."

After setting it down, she folded her arms to her chest. "Last I checked, we weren't divorced. Did you think we were, or did you just lie?"

"I told no lie, _Mrs. Snape_," he smirked, crossing his arms to mock her stance. "As I entered the lobby, I was asked by one of the information-wizards if I had signed a divorce petition. When I answered – truthfully, I might add – that I had, in fact, done so over the weekend, he presented me with that."

"Of course, you couldn't be bothered to correct him," she rolled her eyes.

"If his incompetence prevents him from noticing that I still wear a ring, that's his own fault," he sneered, stepping around the desk. "Besides, I plan on milking the Ministry for every knut I possibly can… or do you personally hold claim to the corner on that particular market?"

With a laugh, Hermione caught his eye. "I suppose I could share the corner."

"How considerate of you." He then cleared his throat and gestured to the bookshelf. "Which of these are yours?"

After giving an amused sigh, the witch pointed out the few books that did not belong to her, and the two of them worked efficiently to pack her entire professional life into a single crate.

A half hour later, as she slipped the bottle of champagne into her messenger bag, her husband grabbed hold of the strap and slung it over his shoulder. Picking up the carton of minimized books with one arm, he gestured toward the door with his head. "Are you ready?"

She glanced about the room one final time and then nodded confidently as she slipped her hand into his free one. "More than ready."

Severus squeezed her hand gently as she opened the door, and as they walked through the Office for the Prevention of Cruelty and Unfair Practices against Magical Creatures, it was quite evident that Marie Zeller had wasted no time in gossiping. Grimacing, he attempted to ignore the few suggestive winks being sent his way from some of the male staff, and focused simply on guiding his wife in the direction of the exit.

As they reached the Office door, they paused long enough for Hermione to give a brief farewell. When she was met by a heartfelt round of applause – and whistles from Marie's direction – she choked back tears and tugged her husband into the corridor before she completely broke down.

"You'll be back soon enough," he whispered as they made their way toward the lift station.

The woman wiped her eyes with the back of her free hand and nodded. "I know."

When the lift arrived on their level, the two stepped into the car and let out a collective, relieved sigh. Just as the witch turned to smile up at him, the car lurched to a stop and the doors flew open to admit another occupant.

Pressing her lips to the downy head of the baby sleeping on her shoulder, Ginny Potter murmured softly to her son before glancing up as she stepped into the lift. Startled by the sudden appearance of her best friend holding hands with her former Professor, the redhead coughed lightly and blinked several times. "Hermione! I was just coming to see you."

"Oh, well," the older witch stammered, "I guess it's good you caught me, then. I've just resigned."

Severus snorted as his wife's friend's eyes widened into saucers.

"What?" she hissed, remembering at the last second that she was holding a sleeping child. "Why?"

Hermione took a deep breath as she flexed her fingers within her husband's grasp. "It's a long story, but suffice it to say that I'm reexamining my life."

The younger woman flicked her eyes to her friend's stomach, but at seeing the subtle shake of her head, she cleared her throat and stepped out of the way of the lift doors. A wicked gleam appeared in her eye as she turned slightly away from them. "Well, might I say that the two of you appear rather comfortable."

Shaking her head in minor disbelief, the brunette leaned forward and whispered in her ear. "Extraordinarily mind-blowing, actually."

"Is that so?" Ginny smirked, glancing over her shoulder at the other Gryffindor witch before eyeing the wizard appraisingly. "I didn't know you had it in you, Professor."

Snape's gaze snapped to the ginger's smug expression and then to his wife's flushed cheeks. Accurately surmising the situation, he rolled his shoulders and casually looked ahead of him. "Yes, well, I suppose only having been with Potter, you wouldn't know a real man if he bit you on the arse."

Fire flashed across her eyes, but quickly simmered into a devious grin as she glanced at her friend. "You never told me you were into arse-biting, Hermione."

An indignant gasp escaped the witch as she quickly smacked her husband's shoulder.

"She's the one who said it," he growled.

"Yes, but you're the one trying to best a Weasley at her own game," she snapped.

Severus snorted haughtily as he rocked slightly on his feet. "Don't pay her any mind, darling – she's merely concerned that if she lets Potter near hers, it won't be her bottom he's envisioning."

While Ginny's mouth had initially parted in disbelief at hearing the term of endearment in the silky voice, her jaw dropped fully at the insinuation. "Harry isn't gay."

"If that's what you choose to believe," he sneered.

The redhead narrowed her eyes into a glare. "He _isn't_."

"Huh," he grunted, glancing above her head. "My mistake, then."

As Ginny spun to face the front of the lift, Hermione stared at her husband suspiciously. When he peered out of the corner of his eye at her, a smile played at the edges of his mouth. She briefly glanced at her friend's unsettled expression and then returned her gaze to Severus's triumphant face. Shaking her head, she slapped his arm again. "You are _such_ a prat!"

"And _you_, madam," he smirked, "are abusive."

The witch rolled her eyes and laid a gentle hand on Ginny's shoulder. "He's just kidding, Gin. Harry is madly in love with you, and _he_ knows that."

The redhead huffed and glared over her shoulder. "That wasn't funny."

"I believe that is a matter of opinion, Mrs. Potter."

"Arse," she snapped, though her tone was less harsh as she touched her stomach briefly before returning her hand to Jamie's backside.

Severus raised one eyebrow as glanced back at his wife's censuring stare and was about to offer further explanation when the lift car again jerked to a stop, and she stumbled into his side. As two chuckling elder wizards stepped into the car, he let go of her hand and helped steady her by slipping his arm around her waist.

With five of them in the small space, Ginny had been forced a step closer to the couple, and, as a result, Hermione found herself staring directly at the top of the sleeping baby's head. Biting her lip, she watched his torso rise and fall several times before closing her eyes and ducking her head.

Having watched her face fall, the dark-haired man gently ran his hand along her spine and over her shoulder. As she turned into his embrace, he leaned forward and touched his lips to her forehead. When she took in a shuddering breath, he whispered, "It will happen. I know it."

As if sensing a change in the atmosphere, the redhead glanced behind her just in time to see Hermione nod slowly and rest her head against her husband's chest. When she noticed the pained expression on her friend's face and the tenderness with which Snape ran his one free hand over her hair, Ginny returned her eyes to the door, feeling intrusive for having witnessed such a moment of vulnerability. An odd sense of guilt washed over her when she realized what had been the cause of their distress and she found it beginning to gnaw away at the protection afforded her by the Anti-Nausea Potion she had taken an hour prior.

Thankfully, the car soon screeched to a halt as it reached the Ministry lobby. As soon as the doors were clear, she scampered out onto the cool – and blissfully stationary – black marble and took several deep breaths until the queasy feeling passed. Upon opening her eyes again, she noticed with relief that Hermione and her former professor no longer bore anguished expressions as they exited the lift, hand-in-hand.

"Erm," she stammered, following them in the direction of the Floos, "would the two of you be free for supper? There's something Harry and I were thinking of discussing with you."

The brunette glanced up at her husband. "Well –"

"Actually, Hermione and I have a prior engagement this evening," Snape interrupted, drawing a surprised and questioning gaze from his wife.

As realization dawned upon her, the witch blushed and leaned into him as she addressed her friend. "Right, I nearly forgot. Perhaps tom—"

The wizard cleared his throat loudly.

" –erm, next week?" Hermione finished brightly, staring up at him.

Ginny took in the heated gaze shared between the pair and sucked in a quick breath. "Next week will be fine. I'll send you an owl to find out which night works best if –"

"Sounds good, Gin," the older woman stated loudly without breaking eye contact with Severus. "We'll see you soon."

As the pair disappeared into the nearest emerald green flame, Ginny chuckled under her breath and glanced down at her son, who was now awake and fussing slightly. "Well, it's about time they figured it out, huh?"


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: Been a while, but hopefully the _Bound to Him_ updates softened the blow. There will be one more chapter after this, followed by an epilogue. **

**Thank you all for reading!**

* * *

_"Love is an irresistible desire to be irresistibly desired." - Robert Frost_

** - Chapter 15 -**

As the mid-afternoon rays peeked in through the edges of her bedroom window, Hermione stretched out her legs beneath her sheets and then slipped one over her husband's longer one. When he still did not wake from his post-coital snooze, she smirked and snuggled deeper into his side, resting her head on his shoulder.

They had barely made it out of the Floo before their self-control all but disappeared into thin air. Her messenger bag and box of books had been dropped carelessly to the ground. Her shoes had been sent skittering across the hardwood floor as he had seized her about the waist and pinned her against the bookshelf beside the fireplace. After several minutes had passed – and a handful of books had been knocked to the floor – she had half-dragged him in the direction of the bedroom. Their progress had been halted a few times by the burning need to remove certain articles of clothing until finally Severus had lifted her practically naked form into his arms and carried her the rest of the way.

The witch grinned as she ran her fingertips along a thin, pale line of scar tissue that ran just above his naval. She had no doubt that they would each sport a number of small bruises from their encounter, but she certainly would not mind in the least. Sighing softly, she moved her fingers through the dark smattering of hair on his chest and thought about how different the frenzied exchange had been from their first marital experience.

_"Are you sure you don't want any more of this?" Hermione asked as she began scraping the leftover rice and Moo shu beef into a glass dish. "There's still plenty."_

_"No, thank you."_

_Nodding, the witch stowed the container in the refrigerator and then began drumming her fingertips on the countertop. Glancing toward her sitting room, she watched her husband – Merlin, that was weird to think – stand with his hands folded behind his back as he visually perused the contents of her bookcase._

_"Erm, more wine perhaps?" _

_Severus shook his head and flexed his hands. "It will not bother me if you have another, however. Provided, of course, you cease before reaching your limit. I have no desire to consummate anything with an inebriate."_

_With a roll of her eyes, the woman shook her head and stepped around the end of the counter. "Charming."_

_"Well, I am under no delusions that you've married me for my dashing good looks," he sneered, sliding out a book from the shelf. "And since you've suggested keeping our accounts separate, it wasn't for the money either. Ergo, it must be the charm."_

_"Or lack thereof," she muttered, claiming a seat in the middle of the sofa. "Perhaps it was for your biting wit." _

_Snape glanced over his shoulder and eyed her in amusement. A minute later, he re-shelved the tome and crossed the small space to join her on the couch. "Shall we get on with it, or can you think of any further legitimate methods of delay?"_

_The brunette snorted softly, and crossed her arms. "Well, if you'd like, you could recite poetry or serenade me –"_

_"Are you trying to make me nauseous?" he interrupted. _

_She shrugged innocently, and turned her upper body towards him. "I'm just throwing out ideas. You don't need to be so reactive."_

_"Old habits," he sighed, dropping his gaze to stare at the silver band resting on his finger. After a moment, he cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck. "Granger, you aren't –"_

_"Hermione," she corrected, straightening in her seat. "We're technically married now, and I think we should use given names, don't you? Besides, I think it might make it even more awkward in the bedroom were I to refer to you as Professor… unless you're into that sort of thing."_

_Severus raised an eyebrow at her and realized she was actually awaiting a response. With a snort, he shook his head. "I don't believe so, _Hermione_."_

_As the witch blew out a relieved breath and relaxed, he swallowed hesitantly. "You have done this before, correct?"_

_"What? Marry my former professor to appease the Ministry? Can't say I have," she smirked, anxiously running her hands along her thighs. "Or were you referring to sex? Yes, I have done _that_ before."_

_This time it was the wizard who breathed a sigh of relief. "Is there…anything you would prefer?"_

_Hermione felt her face flush and she covered her eyes with one hand. "I can't believe you're asking me that question… Merlin, I don't know. Could we maybe not discuss it as though we would literature or music?"_

_"Very well."_

_Lowering her hand, she took in his guarded expression and realized he appeared as uncomfortable as she felt. Tentatively touching his arm, she bit down on her lower lip. "And could we maybe start with just kissing before anything else?"_

_With a nod, he looked down at the hand on his arm and then up at her nervous face. He shifted so that he was facing her and then leaned forward. Hermione kept her eyes locked on his as she followed suit, but before their lips touched, she suddenly began giggling._

_"I'm sorry!" she moaned, covering her face with her hands. "Oh god, this is just so awkward! I mean you used to shout at me for incessant badgering and arm-waving."_

_Severus closed his eyes briefly as he sighed, and then grasped one of her wrists and pulled it away from her face. "It is a rather tedious task, trying to get you to put your arms down and to stop talking."_

_The woman blushed deeper and smacked his arm with her free hand. "Stop! That's not helping."_

_"Neither is hiding," he remarked, maintaining his hold on her wrist as he moved his other shoulder closer to her and snaked his arm around her waist. With her eyes on him, he released her hand and raised his to touch her face. "I suppose we might have attempted this much before, if only to have made the rest of it easier."_

_Hermione snickered and momentarily rested her forehead against his. "It would have been just as awkward then anyway."_

_"True," he mumbled, as she pushed herself even closer to him and moved her mouth towards his lips. When her progress was immediately halted by a collision with his nose, she made a startled noise and closed her eyes in embarrassment. _

_"Good god, how do you function with that monstrosity?" she hissed. "Doesn't it get in the way?"_

_The man donned a mischievous look as he watched her regain her composure. "Is it my nose you're referring to, or what's currently beneath your hand?"_

_As she squeaked and immediately yanked her hand away from his crotch, he chuckled softly. After letting her hand rest within her own lap, she stared at him in astonishment. "Are you actually _smiling_ at that?"_

_"Did you think I was incapable of it?" he queried, pressing his lips to her temple._

_Her eyelids seemed to flutter closed of their own accord as his mouth traveled down the length of her nose. "P-perhaps."_

_"How foolish," he murmured, angling his head to avoid her previous mistake and gently touching his lips to hers. He paused, nearly motionless, for a full three seconds before she realized he was waiting on her to respond. As she pressed back against him, he inhaled loudly through his nose and then pulled her bottom lip between his. When she opened her mouth in surprise, he sucked it farther into his mouth and nibbled it gently. _

_A long moment later, she pulled back and he released her with an audible pop. Her eyes widened and breathing rate increased, Hermione pressed two fingertips to the assaulted lip. Without saying anything, she slipped her hands behind his neck and hungrily returned herself to his mouth, neither of them truly caring that his nose was somewhat crunched against her cheekbone._

_"Merlin!" Hermione gasped breathlessly when they finally came up for air some time later. Narrowing her eyes at the realization she was staring down at him, she glanced about and noticed that she had somehow managed to end up straddling his lap during their exchange. _

_"I assume you would prefer to conclude the evening's events in the bedroom?" he asked, running his hands along her sides as he looked up at her. _

_A brief stab of panic hit her at the insinuation, and she hesitantly swallowed as she registered the bulge pressing into her pelvis. She had been enjoying herself thus far and was not entirely ready to face the inevitable. Everything was alright for the moment, but she would have to disrobe. He would see her scars, and then he would look at her the same way that Ron and the others had. She would end up lying there, wishing for nothing more than to be able to cover herself, while he derived some meager measure of pleasure from her body. And then he would know what a miserable, frigid lay she really was, and he would absolutely dread their future encounters – only he could not escape her as easily as the others had._

_"Hermione? Is something the matter?"_

_The witch forced a smile onto her face and shook her head. Toying with the high collar of his robes, she pressed against his chest and whispered, "Can we just stay out here a little while longer? I think I rather enjoy it like this."_

_Severus raised an eyebrow but nodded._

_As he straightened beneath her, she again wrapped her arms about his neck and nuzzled the end of his nose with hers. "Thank you."_

_Humming in acknowledgement, the man gently caught her lips and proceeded to chase away the tension that had rebuilt itself between them. As their brains increasingly began switching off thinking processes in favor of feeling, kisses became increasingly fevered, bodies shifted and melded together, and fingers began to wander. _

_Arching into the warm hand cupping one of her breasts, Hermione moaned in realization that her body was positively singing. When the contact suddenly vanished a short while later, her eyes flew open and she panted up at the man atop her in disappointment. She had wanted to feel more, but he was drawing away from her. _

_"Why?" she whispered automatically._

_Snape gave a subdued snort as he pushed back onto his haunches. "Why? Because at almost forty-five, I am too old to fuck on a sofa – especially one as narrow as this."_

_Shivering in response to his reply with an inexplicable assortment of embarrassment, fear, anxiety, and arousal, the witch slowly pulled herself into a seated position and stared at him in uncertainty. As he stood from the couch and held out his hand to her, she gingerly accepted the assistance in getting to her feet. Without meeting his eyes, she let her fingers slip out of his as she silently led him toward her bedroom. _

_As she pushed open her door, she swallowed hesitantly and closed her eyes as the wizard stepped past her into the room. Maybe it would be different this time; maybe he would not even notice or hold it against her if he did. _

_Oh, who was she kidding? This was the man who had, on several occasions, criticized her physical appearance in front of others. He had eyes like a hawk and a tongue that could cut quicker than a knife. Severus Snape did not sugar coat things, and he certainly did not take others' feelings into account when he verbalized his opinions. Her fragile self-esteem, which she had barely managed to piece back together after her last failed relationship, stood next to no chance when facing his harsh criticism. Why the hell had she thought this would be a good idea? _

_Because she knew him; because he was willing to do nothing more than the bare minimum; and because, frankly, she was short on options. Hermione blew out a slow breath and tightened her grip on the door knob. She was just going to have to bluff her way through the night and put herself back together after he was gone. She had not made any plans for the following day, so she could spend it curled up in bed if need be._

_"Would it at all be possible to dislodge the furball from your sheets before we begin?"_

_"What?" she murmured, finally looking in his direction to see him gesturing toward the middle of her bed where Crookshanks was sleeping. Giving a quick nod, she moved to the edge of the bed and scooped the elderly cat into her arms. When he meowed in protest, she pressed her lips to his head and whispered assurances that he could return soon. After depositing him on the couch, she returned to the bedroom and closed the door behind her. _

_The woman startled slightly at seeing that he had already removed his boots and outer robes, and when he glanced over his shoulder at her, she begrudgingly perched on the edge of the bed to pull off her shoes and toss them back in the closet. She then stood to begin unbuttoning her wrinkled robes, turning her body in the hopes of preventing him from viewing her left side._

_"Is that honestly what you wear under your professional robes?"_

_Hermione glanced up in surprise after throwing her robes on top of the hamper and noticed her husband's look of disbelief. Shifting uncomfortably in her grey camisole top and cotton shorts, she shrugged and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "It gets warm in my office generally."_

_"Ah," Snape replied, unbuttoning his cuff. "I've never encountered that problem. It's quite frequently the opposite."_

_She quirked a small grin as she crossed her arms beneath her breasts. "Even in that fancy, new office of yours? _It's_ not in the dungeons."_

_"Still a castle; still Scotland," he sighed as he moved to his other wrist. "One of the magical marvels of the world, and they still couldn't resolve the issue of a draughty window."_

_The witch snickered softly until she noticed his eyes straying toward her chest. Realizing that her ropelike scar was clearly visible to him, she sucked in a deep breath and placed her right arm atop the mark. As the man immediately averted his gaze, she cleared her throat. "Department of Mysteries."_

_ His brows narrowed in confusion as she spoke, and he looked at her quizzically. _

_"The scar," she murmured, allowing her arm to drop back to her side. "It's from –"_

_"Dolohov," he interrupted. "Yes, I remember."_

_Her mouth parted in surprise. "How did you –"_

_"Poppy required a consult regarding your treatment."_

_"Oh," she stated, glancing at the floor as she rubbed her neck with her left hand. Suddenly realizing which hand she was using, she quickly returned to holding it against her waist and then moved toward the edge of the bed. Before she could sit, however, long fingers gently wrapped around her wrist and turned over her arm. "Please don't…"_

_Her words trailed off at the expression that was on Severus's face as he sank onto the mattress. After running a thumb along the carved letters, he swallowed heavily and raised his eyes to hers. His lips were pinched together in anger as he forced out one syllable. "Who?"_

_Hermione took in a deep breath and found herself unable to look away from him. "Bellatrix."_

_As his eyes darkened and a muscle in his neck twitched, she felt strangely compelled to continue talking. "She wanted to know where we had gotten the sword, but didn't believe me when I said we had found it and that it was only a copy. She kept screeching that we had stolen it and demanding that I tell her what else we had taken from her vault."_

_Her wrist was beginning to sweat in his grasp, yet she found that she did not mind all that much. His gaze was piercing, but it was comforting to note that it was directed at her face and not at her branding. He was listening to her and not staring at _it_ in morbid fascination or disgust. _

_"That's how I knew there was something there to steal," she smirked sadly. "We might not have found the cup otherwise, so I guess I should consider that a silver lining, shouldn't I?"_

_Without speaking, Snape stood and let go of her arm as he took one step forward. Naught but an inch separated them as he slid his hand beneath her jaw and lifted her chin. The woman remained rooted in place, her heart beating hard and fast, as he leaned down and captured her mouth with his. _

_Whereas before his kisses had been bruising and demanding, he was now much gentler, and Hermione felt herself being drawn into him. As she grabbed onto the front of his shirt, she raised onto her tiptoes to eliminate some of the six-inch height difference and to add more force to their exchange. His hands slowly ghosted down her upper arms, and hers gripped his shirt harder as her calves began to quiver with exertion. Just as they were about to give out, Severus slipped his hands onto the backs of her thighs and lifted her against him. _

_As she pressed her knees into either side of his waist, the wizard spun in one fluid motion and relocated them both to the middle of her bed. When she gasped as her back hit the mattress, he pulled away long enough to half-unbutton his shirt. Quickly pressing his lips to hers again, he grabbed hold of her hand and purposely positioned it at the base of his throat. _

_Her eyes locked onto his as her fingertips traced over the rough tissue. There was no need for him to say anything, as it was written in his eyes. He did not find her scars repulsive, and he did not pity her for them. He wanted her to know that he was damaged as well, and that he understood. The pain, the fear, the insecurity – he understood it all. _

_Hermione blinked back a tear as she pushed up onto one elbow and nipped at his bottom lip. After they gradually descended back toward the mattress, she ran her hands along the sides of his face and whispered, "We can make this work, can't we? Together?"_

_A small smile appeared on his face as he placed a kiss to her temple. "I think we'll eventually figure it out."_

"And just what are we thinking about so intently?" came a low rumble.

Hermione smiled and shifted her head to look up at her husband's face. "Our wedding night."

The man groaned in response and rubbed his forehead. "That had to have been one of the worst wedding nights in recent history."

"I don't know," she shrugged, running her hand up his chest. "I didn't think it was all that bad."

He made a derisive snort as he captured her wandering hand within his own and then yawned.

"Well, if you thought it was, I'm sorry," the witch murmured.

Severus raised one eyebrow as he looked at her out of the corner of his eye. "Why would you have to apologize for anything? The fault lay with the Ministry."

She sighed softly and pushed herself into a seated position. "I know I wasn't very good, so you don't have to pretend otherwise."

"What are you babbling about?" he muttered, propping himself up on his elbow. "You were hesitant, certainly, but given the unnatural circumstances, it was to be expected. It was just as awkward from my perspective, so I don't imagine that my performance could have fared well under scrutiny."

Hermione glanced over her shoulder at him. "I meant what I said this morning, you know."

"About enjoying… _That_ night?" He pulled himself forward as he stared at her in astonishment. "_That_ was the best you'd had? Merlin, Hermione – this entire time I've been certain you were simply humoring my ego then."

Her jaw dropped as she considered his admission. "You thought I was _faking_ it?"

"Honestly, yes," Snape replied, placing his hands over her shoulders. "Given the situation, I thought it was the more likely explanation."

His wife shook her head and then leaned back against his chest. "I've never actually done that, which is probably why they thought I was such a cold fish."

"Did Weasley say that?" he growled, tensing up behind her.

"No," she sighed. "He never noticed anything except that I would rather study than sleep with him. Christian, though, he thought I was detached and numb. And Damian – well, frigid bitch would be putting it nicely. And then came you, and I was afraid you would think the same."

Severus exhaled sadly and wrapped his arms around her chest. After he placed a kiss to her head, she turned and looked up at him with a small smile.

"But you didn't. You showed me that you didn't care about my scars, instead of gaping at them or apologizing for them like they did. That's why I was comfortable with you, because I didn't want to disapparate and hide."

Returning her smile, the wizard leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. A moment later, he loosened his hold on her and cleared his throat. "I have a small confession to make regarding that night. When you brought up Dolohov, I assume you thought I was glancing at the curse's mark?"

"Weren't you?" she asked, raising one eyebrow.

With an honest grin he shook his head and withdrew his arms from around her. "Do you remember how you were standing?"

"In my shorts and tank?"

"With your arms crossed," he added, before gesturing with his head for her to demonstrate. When she slowly did so, he smirked and then whispered in her ear. "Now look down."

Bemused, the witch glanced down and noticed how the action had not only pushed her breasts together, but also propped them up for better viewing. Her mouth parted in slight shock and she spun around to face him. "You were perving at my cleavage?"

"I think _perving_ is a little harsh. I was merely noting the scenery –"

"Oh, please!" she protested, slipping her arms about his neck. "You never actually smiled at me until I _inadvertently_ touched your cock!"

Severus gave a bark of laughter before pulling her against him and brushing hair out of her face. "Are you honestly holding that against me? I was a lonely, aging man who suddenly had a lithe, lovely, young witch all but fall into my lap. What sane man wouldn't _smile_ at the prospect?"

She snickered and then dipped her head a minute later. "Did you, erm, see anyone else while we were married? I wouldn't blame you if you did, since it wasn't really –"

"Hermione," he interrupted, lifting her chin. "There was no one else. I do not take loyalty lightly. Besides, once a month was far more regular than it had ever been before you."

"Well, we'll have to fix that, won't we?" the witch smirked.

"I would say we already have," he quipped, squeezing her bare buttocks. "However, in the interest of repeating this performance this evening in _my_ bedroom, I think it would behoove us to start packing your things."

"Fine." The brunette sighed and placed a chaste kiss to his lips before climbing off of him and out of the bed.


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: ****Thank you all for reading! Epilogue will be forthcoming!**

* * *

_"Love is that condition in which the happiness of another person is essential to your own."_  
_― Robert A. Heinlein, _Stranger in a Strange Land

** - Chapter 16 -**

An hour or so later found Severus dressed and temporarily focused on the task of moving his wife out of her flat. After shrinking the last handful of books from the bottom shelf, he carefully set them into the small space still open in the box and then stepped in front of the fireplace. Grabbing a handful of Floo powder, he opened a connection to his Hogwarts office and startled two house-elves that had come to investigate the small pile of things accumulating in front of the fireplace.

"If you've put away the food, I would leave the rest be for now," he muttered, pushing through the box of books. "Let her decide where things are to go, lest we suffer the consequences of another knitted hat epidemic."

With panicked squeaks, the two creatures vanished back to the kitchens.

Shaking his head, he cancelled the connection and then glanced about the space. The only things left to be sent were the currently-minimized furniture and kitchen supplies since he was not sure what she would want done with them. Meandering down the short hallway, he noted that the bathroom and spare room had been stripped of all of her personal belongings, and then paused to lean against the bedroom door jamb.

Hermione was standing next to the bed, where it appeared she had piled all of the contents of her closet. She was currently sorting through clothing and storing things away in the deep drawers of her dresser. Withdrawing his wand from its sheath, he glanced at it for a moment before deciding it was time enough to show her. With a wave of his wand, he whispered, "Expecto patronum."

As the silver light burst forth from the tip of his wand, it morphed into a large animal that slowly padded toward his wife. She jumped slightly as it entered her peripheral vision, and when it appeared to butt its head against her elbow, she immediately looked up at him. "It changed?"

Nodding, he folded his arms as the silver creature continued rubbing back and forth against her hip, purring audibly as it flicked its tail.

The witch stared at the creature in awe for several seconds, noticing that it bore eyes remarkably similar to her own before giggling. "Does Minerva know yet?"

"Of course _not_," Snape groaned, rolling his eyes. "And she _will_ not, unless it becomes a matter of necessity."

"I think she would rather enjoy hearing that your new Patronus is a lion," she laughed, watching as the animal slowly slid to the floor in boredom and then leaned its head on its large front paws. "Or lioness, I guess, is more accurate. She's beautiful."

"As are you," he remarked, observing her as she blushed and ducked her head. A moment later, she reached beneath the nearest pile of clothes and extracted her wand.

Fingering the slender length of vine, she cleared her throat and glanced up at him. "I haven't actually managed a fully-corporeal Patronus since the War. The one I sent Hagrid the other night… I was so angry with you that I didn't even notice whether or not it had taken shape."

Severus dipped his head in acknowledgement. As it had been a therapeutic measure to periodically prove to himself that he was still pure enough to perform the charm without suffering consequence, he knew there were certain times when he had been incapable of producing anything more than an ambiguous blob of mist. Over the past year and a half, however, it had not escaped his notice that when he did produce a corporeal form it was no longer the delicate doe that had guided him through the Wars.

"It will not alter my opinion of you if you are still unable," he reassured her. "Nor will it if yours has not changed. I have no doubt that you possess a wider variety of pleasant memories than do I."

Accepting that as a challenge, Hermione closed her eyes and adopted a look of intense concentration. As a smile slowly spread across her face, she quickly stated the incantation and executed the necessary motions. She then peeked out from one eyelid to see the silver mist sputter slightly before erupting from her wand in a strong stream and adopting a recognizable shape.

"That is the ugliest nose I have ever seen on a lion," the man sneered three seconds later.

Shaking her head, she eyed the large, sleek-maned feline as it turned to glare at her husband. "_I_ think it's rather regal-looking."

"Is that so?" he quipped, tilting his head and striding forward. "And here I thought it was a _monstrosity_."

The brunette snickered as she watched their paired Patronuses disappear and then glanced suggestively at the fly of his trousers before meeting his eyes. "Well, I guess when it's put into context…"

"I am not entirely certain about context, but I could most assuredly put it into _something_," he drawled, grabbing her about the waist and causing her to shriek loudly.

"Oh god, stop it!" she laughed as he slid his warm hands beneath her t-shirt and began kissing her neck. When he did not immediately cease his ministrations, she grabbed the nearest item of clothing out of the open drawer and smacked his head with it. "Stop! _You_ were the one who said we should be working!"

"And had you utilized that exceptional talent of yours for magic, we would already have finished here," Snape whispered into her ear, "and would be on the other side of the country, naked, and in a rather compromising, yet mutually enjoyable position."

"That isn't fair." The witch swallowed slowly and then let out a shaky breath as she tried to regain her composure. "And I _did_ use magic in the other rooms, but it's easier to sort clothes by hand, which I'm nearly done with anyway…except I won't be if you keep distracting me, and _dear gods_, don't you dare!"

With an exasperated sigh, he withdrew his hand from the zip of her jeans, released his hold on her waist, and then removed the makeshift weapon from her hand. Straightening it out, he stared in surprise at the sheer, emerald lace teddy accented with a silver ribbon. "Miss Granger, do explain why it is that _I_ have never seen you in this before."

"Well, _Professor_," she snapped, glancing back at him before her eyes widened at the realization of what he held. Blushing, she snatched it out of his hand and chucked it back in the drawer. "First of all, the tags are still attached, so clearly _no one_ has seen me in it. Secondly, it was part of a birthday present from Ginny, so I've only had it less than two months. Thirdly, I didn't know you loved me until last night, so I wasn't about to put myself out there without being absolutely certain of not being humiliated, and fourthly –"

"Your responses always did exceed the suggested limit," he interrupted with a smirk.

"And _fourthly_," the woman continued, crossing her arms, "since I _am_ a married witch, I would think my _husband_ would prefer it if I were addressed as such!"

Severus stared at her in amusement and then dipped his head. "My apologies, _Madam Snape_."

"Thank you," she huffed, returning to her task of sorting through her clothing and tossing out a number of items she no longer cared to wear.

Standing behind her, he monitored her progress for a short moment until his curiosity got the better of him. Peering over her head, he eyed the open drawer and then casually moved the Slytherin-themed lingerie aside. After a few seconds of browsing, his eyebrows raised nearly to his hairline as he withdrew a rather scandalous pair of knickers.

Could they even be considered underwear? The scrap of black silk clearly did little to cover anything at all. Noticing a similar pair in a bright shade of purple poking out from beneath her more sensible ones, he pulled them out far enough to note that they, too, still held their store tag.

At hearing his snort, Hermione paused and slowly began turning her head. "Severus, what are you –"

"I take it that these were gifts as well?"

"For Merlin's sake," she groaned, batting his hand away. "Are you honestly rifling through my knicker drawer? How old _are_ you?"

Snape failed to hide his smirk as he held up the pair in his hand. "Should I be worried that Ginevra Potter seems to have been more concerned with my getting laid than my wife was?"

"_Give_ me that." She grabbed the knickers out of his hand, threw them back in the chest of drawers, and then shoved the drawer shut. "For your information, she was _concerned_ with getting _me_ laid."

"So by association, then –"

"Have you finished out front?" the witch asked, folding her arms.

Chuckling softly at the sudden change in subject, he nodded. "You only need to tell me which furniture or kitchen items you cannot live without, and I can send the rest to my estate."

"At Spinner's End?" she queried; a hesitant look on her face.

The man grimaced and shook his head. "That firetrap was hardly suitable for the rodents and roaches to raise _their_ families. I would never have allowed you to reside there. I recently purchased a more agreeable property, just south of the Black Lake."

"How recently?" she asked, raising one eyebrow.

Severus cleared his throat as he sat down on the corner of the mattress. "Thirteen months ago."

"You never told me that," the woman stated softly, perching beside him.

He shrugged his shoulders lightly. "I did not think a one-bedroom flat was the most ideal location for raising a child –"

"Well, it _is_ a two-bedroom," she teased.

Her husband fixed her with a trying look. "I've seen house-elf nests that are bigger than that _alleged_ second bedroom."

"True enough."

The wizard gave a small smirk before continuing. "I also thought that you might not have been comfortable in the Headmaster's quarters. It will adjust for extra bedrooms if needed, but the castle does not exactly provide ample privacy, especially during the school year. Besides that, I very much doubted that you would be content in sharing a residence full time."

"I don't think I'll mind," Hermione replied, slipping a hand into his, "and there's more than enough space in that loo should I need some time alone."

Snorting softly, he closed his fingers around her hand. "I had no wish to drag you about the country looking at available properties unless I thought they were worth your time. I had meant to consult with you before making a decision, but I did not care for any of the others and when that one became available, I knew it would not remain vacant for very long. As you were feeling unwell during that month and were perpetually busy with getting the House Elf Legislation before the Wizengamot, I did not think it would be possible for you to tour it in a timely manner, so I purchased it outright. I thought I would wait until a few repairs and housekeeping had been completed – and you could manage some time away – to invite you to see it and deliver your verdict. But before long, it became a moot point."

With an audible sniffle, the witch wiped her eyes with the back of her free hand and then pushed forward. When she pressed her face into his collarbone and slipped her arm around his neck, he let go of her other hand and wrapped both arms about her waist.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

Severus shook his head and pressed his lips to her temple. "I told you it wasn't your fault."

"No," she sighed, pushing far enough away from him to meet his gaze. "I'm sorry that I never made time for you… for _us_. I could have, but I just… didn't."

"We were both at fault in that regard," he responded, moving one hand to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "But we've figured out that much at least, and we can work on the rest."

His wife nodded slowly and offered him a slight smile. "Better late than never, right?"

"Clearly," he smirked.

Hermione sank against his side and took in a slow breath. "I wouldn't mind touring it now."

"Right now?"

She snorted as she looked up at him. "Well, not at this _exact_ moment. I'm rather comfortable where I am presently, _thank_ you."

"You're quite welcome."

The brunette eyed his smug expression and rolled her eyes. "Prat."

Snape chuckled and slid his hands down to her hips. "I will take you there this week-end, if that is acceptable. _You_ may suddenly have all the free time in the world, but I, madam, am very much still employed."

"I suppose that will just have to suffice, then," she sighed good-naturedly. As he squeezed her bottom, she pressed herself against his chest and once again slipped her arms around his neck. "Though if you wanted to, you could satisfy some measure of my curiosity by telling me about it."

"I do live to satisfy you," he drawled, leaning back onto the mattress and pulling her giggling form atop him. "Shall I start with the boring details and work my way somewhere more exciting?"

"Obviously," she mocked, resting her head on his shoulder. "Any good storyteller would do so."

Her husband snorted under his breath and shifted slightly. "Well, if I remember correctly, there are five bedrooms, including the Master suite, which faces the lake – "

"The Southern edge?"

"Yes –"

"By the Forbidden Forest?" she asked; skepticism entering into her tone.

"No –"

"Near the train station?"

"If you insist on interrupting me, I will tell you nothing else," he frowned. "I will let you wallow in your own infernal curiosity."

Hermione grinned and then lifted her head to meet his chastising stare. "Sorry."

He raised one eyebrow in challenge until she snickered and placed a kiss to his jaw.

"I won't do it again."

"I do not believe you," he murmured as she resumed her earlier position across his chest. "As you insist on knowing the precise location, it is _not_ by the Forbidden Forest because I am not a _complete_ dullard, nor is it next to the railroad. It is farther to the west, where the carriage road jaunts out of sight of the shore."

"Wait," she murmured, pushing herself up to see his face. "Does it have a really rough cobblestone drive that comes out to the carriage road? And a metal gate with scrollwork you can barely see because it's so overgrown? And with the forget-me-nots and bluebells out front?"

Severus critically eyed her excitement. "I understand that you are the Brightest-Witch-of-the-Age, but I fail to see how you could possibly know _that_."

With wide eyes, the witch scrambled up so that she was straddling his stomach. "I swear – every year, that was the point in the road that I couldn't take the boys' conversation any longer, and I would start staring at the scenery instead. I always wondered if someone lived there and thought it was sad that no one would care for the lane."

"That made you _sad_?" he scoffed.

Catching sight of his smirk, she smacked his chest lightly and crossed her arms. "Yes!"

After a brief laugh, he patted her thigh. "Then I'll be sure to send the elves out immediately to remedy –"

"The _elves_?"

He smiled at the indignant expression on her face. "There are two house-elves attached to the estate – and by _attached_, I mean Merlin help the individual who suggests they go anywhere else."

"But are they –"

"They are both free, and are highly aware of it," he stated. "In fact, when I suggested that the basement of the greenhouse be converted into a Potions laboratory instead of the storage room it was, they did not hesitate in instructing me that I was to clear out the junk myself. And when I did so this summer, they sat on the staircase, sipping on butter beer and telling me to 'lift with my wand'."

Biting down on her lip to keep from giggling, she breathed deeply. "And you will pay them?"

"Where do you think they got the butter beer?" he quipped, before groaning. "And have you ever actually attempted to negotiate money with house-elves? I've never sat through a more ridiculous conversation."

"Not with house-elves, no," Hermione mumbled, brushing her fingertips along the buttons of his shirt. "I have had to sit down and negotiate with the goblins, however. That was mightily unpleasant."

"I can imagine, yes," he nodded, watching her nibble on her bottom lip.

"Speaking of that," she said softly, flattening her palms against his chest, "it would probably be best if we kept our accounts separate."

Severus raised one eyebrow. "Oh?"

His wife donned a sheepish smile as she ducked her head. "I still owe Gringotts money, so they've been siphoning off a percentage of my account until the debt's repaid."

"Until the debt's…" He propped himself up on one elbow. "Is this your way of telling me that you have a gambling problem?"

"What? No," she shook her head. "I don't gamble – not with money, at least. I owe them still for the whole destruction of property, theft of dragon, and violation of about seventeen other bank policies."

His eyes widened, Snape cleared his throat. "They didn't just hold _you_ accountable –"

"No," she replied. "Harry had enough in his account to pay his share, but I would imagine that Ron is in the same position I am."

"Exactly how much is outstanding?"

Hermione bit down on her lip again and leaned forward to whisper the amount into his ear. When she pulled back enough to notice his look of disbelief, she giggled softly. "I know. I had no idea that a blind, albino dragon could be worth so much. I'm going to be in debt until I'm eighty!"

Her husband chuckled and slid his hand beneath her jaw, pulling her forward so that he could catch her lips. A moment later, he placed a kiss on her nose and forehead, and then leaned back to meet her gaze. Running his thumb across her cheek, he quirked his lips. "When next I am able to travel to London, we will schedule an appointment with the head goblin. I will settle your remaining balance, they will cease their garnishments, and we will then combine our accounts."

The witch narrowed her eyes slightly. "You're just going to walk in there and pay it? But that's – how could you possibly afford that? Especially after buying a house! I _know_ how much a teacher's salary is, because Neville's told me what he earns, and that's increased from what you would have made because as Headmaster you negotiated pay raises from –"

Severus silenced her by placing two fingers to her lips. "First of all, when I was teaching, I had relatively little expenses – room and board were covered, my father's house was fully paid for, and the Board of Governors under Lucius's thumb kept my personal and classroom storerooms fully stocked. As Headmaster, my salary is significantly improved, even with the percentage forfeited to the staff. As you well know, I own the rights to a number of potions used by St. Mungo's and as such receive a small amount of royalties each month, and furthermore, Albus sodding Dumbledore left me the majority of his estate."

"What?" she gasped.

"In his will, he bequeathed me the contents of his vault, a portion of the rubbish that had cluttered his office, and two properties," he explained. "As I had no more inclination to live in one of his houses than my father's, I offered them to Aberforth. He would not accept them as a gift, so I sold them at a third of their value. Last I heard, he has restored the Dumbledore home in Godric's Hollow and has used Albus's grander estate to house a number of goats."

As she snickered softly, he continued, "Purchasing that property barely made a dent in my finances. Dumbledore's money is doing little more than collecting dust in my vault, so what better use can it serve than to fund my wife's war reparations?"

With a laugh, Hermione leaned forward and kissed him thoroughly.

"Now," he murmured when they drew apart, "before I was interrupted by your doubts, concerns, and protests, madam, I was attempting to satisfy your curiosity."

"Yes," she nodded before tucking her head beneath his chin. "Please do continue."

Snorting softly, Snape returned to the beginning of his description. "There are five defined bedrooms, including the Master Suite, which faces the lake –"

"Can you see the school from there?" she interrupted, grinning mischievously when she heard him sigh.

"In the distance, yes," he snapped, before launching into a quick depiction of the remainder of the house and grounds. Upon reaching the conclusion, he stated, "I think one of the more appealing aspects of the house is that neither of us will have to trip over your books. There just so happens to be a two-story library, complete with –"

Before he had the chance to finish, the brunette had covered his mouth with hers. Several minutes passed before she allowed him up for air, and while she stared at him breathlessly, her hand seized the wand from the bed and sent the piles of clothing soaring into the open drawers.

"I thought you wanted to sort those."

Hermione smirked and huskily whispered as she rolled her hips against his evident arousal. "I can do that later."

Groaning, he bucked upwards to reverse their positioning – causing his wife to yelp in surprise – and then pinned her wrists above her head. He lowered his mouth to hers, but yanked back in shock a moment later and looked between them to see that they both had suddenly become naked from the waist down. Glancing back at the smirking witch beneath him, he reached up and plucked the wand from her hand. "That, madam, is cheating."

"I'm just utilizing my exceptional talent for magic," she argued, wrapping her legs around his waist. "Now, are you going to satisfy me, or not?"

"You are rather overbearing, aren't you?" he sneered as he pushed into her.

With a gasp, she nodded and then arched against him. "Severus?"

"Hmmm?" he grunted as he transferred both of her wrists into one hand and slipped the other beneath her shirt.

"There isn't like…oooh, gods… a lim-a limit to how mmmm-many times you can have sex in a day, is there?"

Snape chuckled loudly as he increased his pace and then leaned forward to whisper into her ear. "I will spell-o-tape it back on if I have to."

When he later felt her muscles beginning to clench around him, he released her arms and buried his face against her neck. "Hermione…"

At hearing her name upon his lips, she threw her arms about his frame and loudly tumbled over the edge, pulling him along with her. She clung to him for a long moment afterwards, until he finally withdrew from her and rolled onto his back. Almost immediately, she took in a deep breath and pressed herself against his side, laying her head and one of her hands atop his chest. Snape then slipped one arm around her back and placed his other hand over hers.

Several minutes later, the witch broke the silence of the room. "She's going to ask us to be godparents, you know."

His brows pulled together in confusion. "Who?"

"Ginny," Hermione sighed, pulling her hand back and tucking it between their bodies. "That's why she wants us to join them for supper."

He tilted his head, still feeling befuddled. "Isn't it a bit late to be browsing for godparents? I am quite certain that the naming ceremony invitation I received and promptly misplaced arrived a few months ago."

"I wasn't referring to Jamie," she replied quietly. "I know that they briefly considered us for _his_ godparents, but after everything that happened, Ginny knew I wasn't ready for that, so they went with Ron and Lucinda. I couldn't even go to the ceremony."

"You didn't?" he asked in surprise.

She shook her head. "I just kept thinking that ours… would have been a month or so earlier, but we never… we never actually discussed names or godparents. I didn't want to ruin their day by crying through it all."

Severus blinked slowly, continuing to stare at the ceiling as he tightened his embrace across her shoulders. Uncertain of what he should say, he held onto her in silence for several minutes before clearing his throat. "You think that Ginevra is again with child?"

The witch nodded against his shirt. "She really wanted to go to lunch with me on Friday, but I had a meeting, and then again today she was looking for me. I think she brought Jamie with to gauge my reaction before she was going to tell me; in the past, she's left him Molly or Marie if she visits me. But I could see it when she was in the lift – she kept touching her stomach every so often and she looked like she was feeling nauseous. "

"I didn't even notice," he murmured, turning slightly so that he could wrap his other arm about her frame. "I would not have provoked her had I known she was suffering that particular affliction."

Hermione snickered and shook her head. "She didn't mind – at least not until you took it too far. You likely distracted her for a moment, and I'm not kidding when I say she enjoys exchanging innuendos. If she weren't dealing with hormones and body image issues, I imagine she would have recognized sooner that you were only teasing her about Harry."

He grunted in response and then shrugged. "I suppose that ought to make for interesting holiday gatherings."

"What?" She glanced up at him suddenly and rose onto her elbow. "I thought you weren't going to be forced to attend any Weasley-Potter productions."

"I do not detect anyone attempting to force me into it. You've already instructed the Ministry to bugger off," Severus smirked. "Besides, it wouldn't be proper to force our children into choosing which parent to spend the holidays with, would it?"

Her face lighting up; his wife leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. When she pulled back, he stroked her cheek with one hand.

"And I suppose it would be equally unusual to not spend time with one's godchild," he added.

Her eyes widened in surprise. "You would be willing to accept the role if they offer it? You are aware that we're discussing The Chosen One's son?"

"I am fully aware, yes," he chuckled. "If the child has any hopes of being well-balanced, he's going to need a grounding influence in his life. I would be willing to accept it if you are ready."

While he ran his hands along her upper arms, Hermione gave a nod. "It still hurts, but it seems bearable now… with you."

The wizard smiled tightly and raised his head to meet her lips. As they were sinking back against the mattress together, her stomach growled loudly, causing them to pull apart quickly. After glancing past her prominent chest to the complainant, he raised his gaze to her blushing face and lifted one eyebrow. "When exactly did you last eat?"

"Erm," she mumbled, closing her eyes in thought. "Rita shoved a bagel in my face this morning to shut me up while she was writing, but before that… erm… half of a plate of bland chicken alfredo –"

"Merlin's sake, Hermione!" he interrupted, seizing her about the waist and rising from the bed. "That was two days ago!"

"Well, I wasn't hungry yesterday," she protested, slipping out of his grasp and onto the floor, "and I was fulfilling other basic needs this afternoon."

Snape snorted and wiped his face. "You hardly had any edible food left in the kitchen, and what there was, I've already sent through the Floo."

The Gryffindor shrugged and reached for her discarded knickers. "Well, then, I suppose you had better put your trousers back on so we can go after it. And it is just about time for supper in the Great Hall, isn't it? We _could_ reassure the rest of the school that you _are_ still alive and breathing, and then we could go back to your rooms… for dessert."

As her husband began re-dressing his lower half, he sighed. "I suppose it would be best to see them once more… on the off chance that I suffer a sex-induced coronary and am not able to be with them henceforth."

Hermione crinkled her nose as she pulled her jeans over her hips and fastened them. "In that case, we should probably find the spell-o-tape as well. Take no chances, right?"

"Indeed," he sneered, producing his wand and quickly shrinking the remaining contents of the room. Conjuring up another crate, he began levitating each of the items into it and then lifted it off of the floor. As she made an attempt to manage her hair, he strode past her to the front room and collected what was left from his earlier packing.

By the time he had opened up another Floo connection with his Hogwarts office and pushed the crates through, the witch had entered the room. Watching her glance about the empty space, he felt a twinge of guilt at realizing he had been too distracted by the fact that she was in the most fertile stage of her cycle to consider she may need more in her belly than just his seed. But when she caught him staring and offered him a tentative smile, he returned the gesture and wondered who could actually blame him for that. She was young, she was beautiful, and she loved him – he would do everything possible to give her everything she wanted. If she did not care for the house, he would buy her another. If five bedrooms were not enough, he would build her more. If she –

"Severus, would it be alright with you if I got another cat?"

Snape broke away from his thoughts to see his wife, clutching the blue orchid to her chest and staring at the spot on the window sill where it had sat. He remembered a handful of occasions during which he had sat upon her sofa, locked in a glaring match with the elderly, ginger beast perched in the same spot in the window. The cat had never seemed very friendly, and would outright hiss at him if Hermione ever happened to leave the room. He assumed that the creature was jealous of another male encroaching upon his territory, but he also had not been terribly upset to hear that it had gone to meet its maker ten months into their marriage.

Aside from Minerva, the wizard had really never cared for cats, and when Hermione turned to look at him with a hopeful look in her eyes, he sighed loudly. Knowing full well by his own internal musings that he could not refuse her, he gave a slow nod and shrugged his shoulders. "I suppose _one_ would be manageable."

When she beamed at him, he knew that he had made the right choice and, as she stepped towards him, he held out his hand. Transferring the orchid into her right hand, the witch slipped her left into his and leaned into his shoulder.

"Are you ready?" Severus asked.

After giving one last look about the flat, Hermione nodded, and the couple stepped into the Floo together.


	17. Epilogue, Part I

**A/N: The epilogue was beginning to get quite long, and since I have been super busy the past few weeks prepping for a research convention (which went really well) and could not find time to update, I thought I would split it into halves and give you something to read sooner!****  
**

**There is one small matter I wish to address, since one of the reviewers mentioned it: I did not decide that Snape's patronus would be a lion because I think he was meant to be in Gryffindor, nor was it because Hermione is a Gryffindor. I only selected it after much research into the traditional meanings of animal symbolism. ****The lion is representative of strength, authority, command over subconscious thought, wisdom, power, courage, ferocity, honor, protection, intuition etc. etc. It is also said that the lion "shares the world of both night and day" and that they are fiercely loyal and territorial. "The lion is born powerful, and power comes naturally to it. There is no false bravado as the lion has no need of it." I thought these characteristics fit Severus (and very few of the actual Gryffindors) well, and since his strongest memories are of Hermione, his lion took on her features. Hers then changed to be paired with his. I considered going with fanon and selecting the black panther, but there were a few issues with the symbolism and it's a bit more difficult to visually distinguish between the sexes there. **

**That's my story and I'm sticking to it. So if you rolled your eyes upon reading that bit, I hope this soothes some rumpled fur. **

**Anyway... I will post Part II when I am finished with it, which will hopefully be early next week. **

* * *

_"If I had a flower for every time I thought of you...I could walk through my garden forever."_  
_― Alfred Tennyson_

** - Epilogue, Part I -**

As Hermione blinked slowly awake, she noticed that the sky beyond the window was just beginning to lighten. Yawning, she raised her head an inch to read the clock.

"Shite," she whispered, registering that she had overslept by nearly an hour. When she tried to climb out of bed, however, the strong arm lying across her midsection suddenly tightened. "Severus, let go."

When there was no response but emphasized breathing, the witch rolled her eyes and swatted his arm. "You are not asleep, you arse."

"Well, that's a bit harsh," he murmured without opening his eyes.

"You _finite_-ed my alarm charm, didn't you?" She glanced over her shoulder and, upon noticing the edge of his smirk, let out an exasperated sigh. "I was _supposed_ to be downstairs half an hour ago."

"Mmmph," he grunted without releasing his hold. "It's still early. The sun isn't even up yet."

"That's because it's December." When she attempted again to extricate herself from his grasp, she found herself being physically drawn toward him instead. "Severus – do you have any idea how long it takes to make my hair presentable? I need to get out of bed now."

He groaned something intelligible into his pillow and then sighed. "I still don't see why we need to go through with this."

"_Why_?" Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Because I promised Ginny that she could be the Matron of Honor at my next wedding, and this is as close as she's going to get."

The wizard finally opened his eyes and fixed her with a look of censure. "We're putting on this whole production just so Ginevra does not feel short-changed in the best friend category?"

"Not entirely," she laughed, turning over to face him. "It's also because our real wedding was a bit of a farce."

"It only cost me twenty galleons – and half of that went to Minerva," he argued. "I haven't even dared do the sums on this venture."

The witch ignored him. "Everyone said that I looked like I had been wrestling trolls –"

"I had no complaints."

"—we don't have any pictures –"

"You looked like you had been wrestling trolls. Why would you wish to document that?"

"– we had mediocre Chinese takeaway and cheap wine –"

"It was fairly decent Chinese takeaway, and I've had cheaper wine."

" – You said that our wedding night was the worst in recent history –"

"That's not what I meant."

"—I didn't even wear any naughty knickers."

Severus raised an eyebrow. "Well, now that you mention it – perhaps it would be best to remedy the situation."

"I thought as much," she snorted. "However, _that_ requires you letting me up for the day."

"Does it honestly take you seven hours to put on a pair of naughty knickers?"

With a gasp, Hermione smacked his chest.

"Madam, you wound me," he quipped, rubbing the spot with the hand not currently wrapped around his wife.

"Yeah, well if you don't let go, I'll –"

Her threat was interrupted by a loud knocking on their bedroom door. They both glanced at the door in surprise, and Snape let out a growl. "Who the fuck is it?"

"Severus," the brunette admonished with a glare.

"It's Ginny, and good morning to you, too!" came the slightly muffled voice.

"Weasley," he snarled. "Explain to me how it is you are standing in my private quarters."

"Minerva let me in since Hermione didn't show," she laughed. "Now, are the two of you decent?"

"Yes!" Hermione replied.

The wizard groaned. "Though if it would prevent you opening that door, I am more than willing to remove my trousers."

"You think _that_ would keep me out, Snape?" Ginny scoffed. "I'm seven months pregnant, my husband has been working late because of his stupid promotion, and I haven't had sex in _weeks_! I am no longer responsible for my actions, so by gods, do not tempt me! Send Hermione out now, and no one gets jumped."

With a look of horror etched on his face, Severus gently pushed his wife away from him. "You'd better go."

Laughing, the woman tossed her half of the blankets atop his form and climbed out of the bed. "Coward."

"Witch, be gone with you," he grumbled.

Rolling her eyes, she pulled open the door to meet her best friend's grinning face. When the redhead attempted to leer over her shoulder, Hermione let out a sigh. "Knock it off, Gin."

"You only _think_ I'm joking."

Narrowing her eyes, the brunette held up a hand and gestured for her friend to turn around and start towards the staircase.

"Am I allowed to go back to sleep, madam?" Severus called out, tossing the extra blankets off of him. "Or should I be expecting Saint Potter to show up any moment now to do my hair and pick out my unmentionables?"

As Ginny exploded into laughter, Hermione glanced over her shoulder and smiled. "Go back to sleep, love."

"Bugger, now I have to wee," the redhead groaned.

The older witch snickered as she pulled the door shut behind her and gestured toward the next door along the hallway that had formed a few years prior. "So do I, but I'll let you use it first while I brush my teeth."

"Well, that's nice of you," she murmured, "seeing as you _are_ the one renewing your vows while _I'm_ looking like a house."

"Excuse me?" her friend cried, stopping in the middle of the doorway. "_You_ were the one who declared that the seventh wedding anniversary is so special. We've been planning this for over a year. _You're_ the one who got sprogged up, knowing full well you would be on display."

"I know, I know," she sighed. "Shall we, then? Before I piddle on your floor? I really don't want to have to explain _that_ to Severus. I'll never live it down."

Nodding, Hermione stepped out of the way and directed her toward the water closet. She had just reached for her toothbrush when the other witch froze in shock.

"Merlin's balls!" Ginny cried, glancing around wide-eyed. "Have you _seen_ this place?"

"Well, I _have_ lived here off and on for the better part of four years," she smirked, before running her toothbrush under the faucet.

The redhead nodded slowly as she stepped into the smaller room. "I think I better understand why it took an entire month for you to surface after you moved in with him. I knew it couldn't _just_ be the sex. No one could be _that_ talented in the sack."

The curly-haired woman rolled her eyes and then used her toothbrush to point at her friend. "If you do not stop thinking about my husband and his _exceptional_ talent for sex, I will send you downstairs to use Minerva's bathroom instead."

Ginny raised both hands in mock surrender and then quickly shut the door between them.

After they both had concluded their business and returned to the hallway, Hermione chewed on her bottom lip for a moment, glancing between the door across from her and the one that led to her bedroom. "Just a minute, Gin."

"Okay."

As she pushed open the door, two pairs of eyes immediately locked onto her form. As the part-kneazles – the first, a large cat with slightly rumpled white fur; the second, a much smaller and sleeker tortoiseshell – sleepily blinked at her, the witch pressed a finger to her lips and crept towards the bed they currently occupied.

A smile quirked on her lips as she caught sight of the small, pudgy leg sticking out from beneath the blanket. She still could not quite explain how much it amused her that she often found their daughter sleeping in a position remarkably similar to one her father favored –lying on her stomach, one arm spanning the width of the bed and the other shoved beneath her pillow, with her dark curls fanned out in all directions and always one leg exposed to the air.

Hermione paused for a moment at the head of the bed, watching as the small girl took in soft breaths.

It had only been a few weeks after moving into the castle that she had discovered she was pregnant. As it had been less than a week after the year anniversary of her miscarriage, she had initially panicked, fearing that it would again end in tragedy. She knew that Severus had been just as worried as she had been, but he had rarely let it show and had repeatedly reminded her to take it one day at a time. When she had made it safely past the seventeen-week mark, they had both breathed a little easier – only figuratively, in her case – and had renewed their efforts in preparing for a child.

_"I can't look at this book anymore," Hermione sighed, closing _10,001 Magickal Names_. "Half of the names, I can't even pronounce. And the other half – well, a number of them are pretty, but I just don't know. Nothing really jumps out at me."_

_Severus glanced up from the list of graduating seventh-years. "If anything were supposed to jump out of that book, it would have been unwise of you to read it in your present condition."_

_"Oh, ha ha," she rolled her eyes, setting the book on the sofa cushion beside her. "We could just go with Minerva Jean."_

_"I'm _not_ naming my child Minerva," he grumbled, crossing his arms. "It reeks of incontinence and dentures."_

_Hermione raised one eyebrow. "Shall I inform her of that then?"_

_"Not unless you wish to be a single parent," he replied. "Besides, having suffered the unfortunate shortening of my own name, I will not allow my daughter to bear a nickname as atrocious as Minnie."_

_The witch snorted and leaned against the armrest. "You did promise her at least a middle name."_

_"I did nothing of the sort," he sneered, rising out of his chair. He scooped up the book and then claimed the seat beside her. "She _suggested_ it, but I do not recall ever actually making that particular promise."_

_She smiled, shifting so that she leaned against his shoulder while he flipped through the book. "So her middle name is Minerva, then."_

_"It has too many syllables to fit well with anything else."_

_"Oh, please," she chided. "Tobias has just as many, and it works perfectly fine for you."_

_Snape sighed, but offered no further protest as he wrapped his arm around her. "Well Jean Minerva certainly won't work."_

_The woman grimaced and grunted in agreement. After a minute, she glanced up at him. "What about Eileen?"_

_He paused for a moment in consideration, but then shook his head. "It sounds odd together."_

_"I suppose so," she mumbled._

_A strange silence descended upon the room until he finally cleared his throat. "And your mother's name?"_

_"I've never told you that?" Hermione asked in surprise. When he shook his head, she winced. "Sorry. It's Jean, which doesn't help us any. And my father's name is – er, was, I guess – John, in case you wanted to know."_

_"Ah," he murmured, snapping the book shut and tossing it away from him in disgust. "Your mother's middle name wouldn't happen to be Hermione, would it?"_

_"No, my father was a Greek mythology buff, and my mother loved Shakespeare. Hermione just happened to be on both of their lists. Dad used to refer to it as the Great Compromise of 1979," she laughed sadly, before shifting into a more comfortable position against his side. "It was Emmeline, actually – her middle name."_

_At hearing the tone of his responding grunt, the witch slowly pushed herself into an upright position. "Emmeline Minerva."_

_Severus raised his eyebrows and rubbed his chin briefly. "Well, I suppose that the nickname atrocity index does appear relatively low on Emmeline."_

_Hermione smirked and patted his chest as if she were fluffing a pillow before resting her head against it once more. "Well, now all we have to do is determine godparents."_

_"I swear on my mother's grave, if you suggest the Potters –"_

_She silenced him with a finger pressed against his lips. "Don't make a threat you can't keep."_

Smiling at the memory, Hermione bent over and pulled the blankets off of the little girl who had been so desperate to be born on her father's half-birthday. After placing a kiss to the child's temple, she gently gathered her up from the mattress.

"Mmm-mum-mum?"

"Shh," she whispered, holding Emmeline to her chest as she placed one arm beneath the child's bottom. "Keep sleeping, Emma."

"Banky."

Snorting softly, the witch leaned down and pulled the slightly misshapen, multi-colored knit blanket out from beneath the white cat. She then handed it to her daughter, who immediately clutched it to her chest and tucked her head against her mother's neck.

"Sorry, Rags," Hermione apologized to the displaced feline, who was currently on the floor, licking the insult from his fluffy fur. Adjusting the semi-conscious child slightly, she slowly made her way back toward the hallway.

"Oh, she's gotten big," Ginny exclaimed quietly. "Merlin, she must be taller than Jamie already."

The brunette nodded in agreement. "She's going to be tall like her daddy; aren't you, baby?"

At Emma's grumpy noise, her mother smirked. "Not going to be a morning person either, are we?"

"Shhh… mumma."

"Just a minute, darling," she murmured, turning back to the room. "Come along, Rags. Moose, quickly now."

Ginny snorted as the two felines pranced out of the room. "I understand your naming that one Ragamuffin, but honestly – whatever possessed Severus to name the other one Moose?"

Grimacing slightly, the curly-haired witch glanced at her friend. "He didn't. I just call her that because I refuse to call her Mussolini."

"I don't get it."

"Mussolini was a Muggle dictator," Hermione replied.

The taller woman raised an eyebrow in confusion. "Why would he name her _that_?"

"Because I had already vetoed Mephistopheles, Adolf, Vlad, and _Delores_," she sighed with a roll of her eyes. She vividly recalled how vocal her husband had been with his displeasure at having been saddled with two cats, but there had not been anything to do about it. She had already picked out and promised a home to the bedraggled, white cat when the tiny, mottled kitten had latched onto Severus's robes with all of her claws and refused to let go until he begrudgingly doled out the coins for her. The kitten had rarely let him alone until the baby had been born, when she began splitting her time between pestering him and keeping watch over the little witch.

As the two cats led her back towards the master bedroom, Hermione glanced over her shoulder. "For the longest time, Emma called her 'Moo,' and I had great hopes for a re-naming. And then I came home from the office last week just in time to hear her calling for 'Mootheenie'. I don't think Severus has ever been more proud of his teaching capabilities than in that moment."

Ginny's giggle died out in a small whimper. "No offense, 'Mione, but if you keep making me laugh, I will have to use the loo again."

"I'm sorry," she sighed good-naturedly, nudging open the door and watching as the two cats shot into the room.

A sleepy voice rumbled from the bed. "That had better be you, Hermione. I will not hesitate to petrify anyone else, pregnant or otherwi – CAT! I will have you declawed!"

Hermione bit back a laugh as the slender feline briefly froze after having jumped from the floor onto his backside. Moose then daintily stepped onto the mattress and curled up against his side. Gesturing for Ginny to wait, she cleared her throat. "It's me, I promise. I've brought you something."

"Half a dozen puncture marks on my arse?"

"Those were just a bonus," she smirked, walking over to the bed. "You'll have to turn over, though."

Giving a shuddering sigh, he pushed onto one elbow and then carefully maneuvered onto his back so as not to crush the animal beside him. His look of annoyance vanished, however, at seeing her cargo.

"We won't need her for a while yet," the woman smiled, leaning down to gently lay the sleepy child beside him, "so I thought perhaps you might like to keep her for a bit."

"I see," he murmured, automatically slipping his arm about the girl as she snuggled into his chest. "So you've managed to rouse the entire household before the crack of dawn, then."

"Oh, shut – be quiet," Hermione mumbled, catching herself with a brief glance toward Emmeline. "It's after eight-thirty."

"On one of my first full days of vacation, might I remind you."

She sighed quietly and shook her head in amusement. Leaning down, she placed a kiss on the sleeping child's head and then moved to meet her husband's lips.

"Did you at least take her to the lavatory first?" he asked a moment later.

With her head hovering only an inch above his, the witch shook her head. "I had to take Ginny. You can take her when she wakes again. She should be fine until then."

Severus grunted softly as she quickly kissed him once more.

"Minerva will come to collect Emma in a few hours," she instructed stepping away from him. "Since _you're_ not allowed to see me until the ceremony."

"Is that really necessary?" he asked with a raised brow. "There isn't an inch of you I haven't seen before."

Hermione snickered and leaned against the door. "It's tradition, Severus. You can't see the bride in her dress before the wedding."

As he rolled his eyes and let his head fall back to the pillow, she smiled and pulled the door shut behind her. At seeing Ginny's smirk, she ducked her head slightly and gestured toward the staircase.

"You know, until I actually saw him hold Albus at his naming ceremony, it was really hard to picture him as a father," the redhead confessed, "but now… it's like I can't un-see it."

"I don't think I would have believed it myself if I hadn't experienced it firsthand, but he's absolutely devoted to her," Hermione nodded as they descended into the sitting room. A grin spread across her face as she recalled the first time she had made that observation.

_At the sound of birds chirping, the witch yawned and wiped at her eyelids. Recognizing that her body was telling her that it was likely time to feed Emmeline again, she sighed and forced herself to open her eyes. "Sev, could you… Severus?"_

_Noticing that the other side of the bed was empty, Hermione narrowed her eyes in confusion and pushed into a seated position. Climbing out of the bed, she sleepily lumbered over toward the crib only to find it vacant as well. Suddenly wide awake, she glanced around the suite in surprise and tried to fight the sense of panic rising in her system. Yanking her sleeping robe from the back of her rocking chair, she set out down the hallway at a quickened pace._

_After a search of the library, kitchen, and dining room yielded no missing infant or husband, the woman anxiously folded her arms and shouted, "Motsie!"_

_A pop sounded quietly as the elf appeared at her side. "Yes, Mistress Mione?"_

_"Do you know where they are?" she asked; concern evident in her voice._

_Motsie nodded quickly and smiled. "Master Severus and Little Missy Emmie be in the flowers."_

_"The flowers?" she repeated quietly as her eyes suddenly snapped to the nearest window. Clearing her throat, she thanked the creature and then rushed toward the garden door. The witch did not slow her steps until she had reached one of the large trees at the edge of the flower garden. A smile slid across her face and tears of emotion prickled at her eyes as she crept forward._

_Severus sat on the edge of one of the shaded benches, hunched over slightly as he cradled the baby with one arm and pulled forward the sizeable bloom of a golden rose with the other. The low rumble of his voice could be heard as he appeared to explain it to her, though Hermione was still too far away to discern his actual words. _

_As Ragamuffin darted out from beneath one of the shrubs to rub her calves in greeting, the witch caught sight of Motsie and the other elf, Fitsy, eagerly peering around the edge of the greenhouse. Her laugh drew her husband's attention and he straightened in his seat._

_"I tried to let you sleep."_

_"I know," she nodded, shooing Moose to the ground before sinking onto the bench beside him. At the sound of her mother's voice, Emmeline pulled her eyes away from the flower and turned her head. Noting how the baby was moving her mouth, Hermione smiled wearily and stroked one finger along her daughter's cheek. "But I think this little one's hungry, aren't you? And Daddy can't fix _that_ yet, can he?"_

_"Ah," he murmured, carefully transferring the child into his wife's arms. "I did, however, change her nappy."_

_The witch giggled and kissed his cheek. "We both greatly appreciate it, too. And I think she liked sitting out here with you. I can feel how happy she is right now."_

_Snape tilted his head in surprise and then grinned. _

_"You could make _me_ happier out here," she smirked, whispering into his ear, "by making this seat a bit more comfortable."_

_The wizard immediately withdrew his wand and covered the bench with thick, blue cushions. Catching sight of Emmeline's suddenly wide-eyed expression, he chuckled brightly and slipped his arm about his wife. _

"Hermione, did you hear me?"

The brunette snapped her attention toward her friend and cleared her throat. "Hmmm? Sorry, I was thinking about something."

"Yes, I could tell as much by that faraway look in your eye," Ginny snickered as she reached for the door handle to the Headmaster's office. "I was just asking if you've told him yet."

Hermione narrowed her eyes slightly before she noticed her friend pointedly staring at her stomach. For a moment she considered asking how the witch could have known, but realized quickly that the soon-to-be mother of three had probably recognized it weeks ago. Clearing her throat, she blushed and glanced back at the staircase. "No, I was going to wait until tonight, actually."

"Ah," the redhead replied with a sharp nod and a wink as she pulled open the door. "Mum's the word, then."


	18. Epilogue, Part II

**A/N: Missed my estimated deadline by a lot, but my muse just wasn't fully cooperating - she got rather long-winded and mushy. Perhaps she was just too upset to let this go. In any case, she refused to let this be an ending, so instead it's a collection of beginnings. **

**Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing! I hope you have enjoyed this as much as I have. **

* * *

_"I dreamed of two blue orchids_  
_Two beautiful blue orchids_  
_One night while in my lonely room_  
_I dreamed of two blue orchids_  
_So full of love and light_  
_That I wanted to possess each tender bloom_  
_Then my dream took wings_  
_And through a thousand springs_  
_Blue orchids seemed in a world apart_  
_But when I met you_  
_Something pale and blue_  
_Came stealing from the meadows of my heart_  
_I saw my two blue orchids_  
_My beautiful blue orchids_  
_Last night and what a sweet surprise_  
_When you looked at me_  
_It was plain to see_  
_Blue orchids only bloom in your eyes."_

_- Glenn Miller, "Blue Orchids"_

** - Epilogue, Part II -**

With a sigh, Severus stepped through the staff entrance into the Great Hall. His eyes widened slightly at the drastic change that occurred since he had left the hall after lunch only hours before. He had witnessed Hermione conspiring with Filius and Longbottom several times over the past six months, and it seemed his wife had allowed the diminutive wizard and his side-kick to run unchecked.

The dais, which had been cleared of the staff table as soon as the majority of students left for the holiday, sported four sizeable fir trees, which were situated in order to frame the large window and extensively decorated with twinkling blue lights, silver streamers, and ivory roses. The rest of the holiday greenery had been adorned in a similar fashion, and the large banners and window drapes had been charmed bright silver. A silver-trimmed white velvet runner spanned the length of the hall from the main entrance and up the shallow steps of the dais, widening gradually to fill the space beneath the window. A small, octagonal table sat in the center of the platform, draped in white satin with flowers cascading down the sides. Rising up from amongst the roses and forget-me-nots were two silver candles.

Inhaling deeply, he turned slightly to view the seemingly endless rows of silver-backed chairs. Candles floated at the edges of the aisles, and intermittent rows were embellished with roses.

"Well, Severus – what do you think?"

The dark-haired wizard glanced down at the culprit and then rolled his shoulders. "What I think is that I do not recall inviting near enough people to fill those seats."

Flitwick chortled brightly. "I suppose not, but with all of the families of the invited, the Minister of Magic's entourage, and the students still in residence, near every chair should be filled! I believe the last head-count totaled four hundred and seventeen."

Choking on his own saliva, Snape cleared his throat and then adjusted the collar of his midnight blue dress robes. "Well, I suppose the Weasley clan accounts for at least a third of that number."

"Oh, not quite yet, but they're certainly working on it!" the Charms professor laughed. "I had a feeling you might be in a mood today. I've never figured you as being one for public displays."

"Would you like a pat on the back for deducing that?" he drawled, picking at some of the silver embroidery on his sleeve before folding his arms to his chest.

His colleague grinned and shook his head. "I just saw Hermione, and I wanted to assure you that she looks positively stunning. I've never seen her look more beautiful than she does this afternoon."

"I see," the Headmaster mumbled. "I suppose I do thank you, but I did not suffer the impression that she would arrive in a hideous state."

"Oh, I'm sure you thought nothing of the sort! Now, of course, I've discussed everything with Hermione, but in case you were curious…"

As the half-goblin droned on about how the Hall would be transformed to host the reception and dinner following the ceremony, Severus found himself only half listening as he considered the absurdity of the situation. He had been married to the witch for seven years – quite happily, for four of them – and they had a child together, for Merlin's sake. There was no need for her to don some ridiculous white dress just to prove to him that she was beautiful – he would never see her as anything less.

And the notion that she had never been prettier was laughable! He rather doubted that fixing her hair and painting her face could improve upon what was already there. In fact, the memory that stood out as being the moment of her greatest beauty in his opinion was one that was in stark contrast to the conventional definition.

_Sweat dripped down her forehead, and tight ringlets of her hair were plastered to the side of her face. He could feel her quivering as she sank against his chest in exhaustion. Placing his lips against her temple, he whispered. "You're beautiful."_

_"Shut up," she panted._

_"I am not –"_

_"Please! No more noise," Hermione moaned breathlessly. "_Tell_ him no more noise!"_

_Healer Fairborne glanced up at her and gave a small smile, while Poppy laughed tiredly. With a sigh, Severus closed his eyes until he felt his wife push forward again. As she gave another primal cry, her fingers dug into his wrists and he set his jaw against the resulting pain. He would suffer in silence for he suspected that even if she broke both wrists it would pale in comparison to what she was experiencing. _

_As she settled back against him, he kept his mouth firmly closed as per her orders and waited for the next round of contractions to arrive. After she gave another push minutes later, she turned her face against his neck and wheezed, "You're supposed to be talking to me."_

_His mouth agape, he glanced quickly between the two Healers – who both pretended not to have heard the statement – and then cleared his throat. "I'm sorry – I thought you wanted quiet."_

_"You're supposed to tell me I'm doing well."_

_"You're doing well –"_

_"No!" she snapped. "Don't say it just because I told you to."_

_Snape sent a glare in Madam Pomfrey's direction when she chuckled, and then grimaced as his wife executed another death grip on his arms. He had known that he had fallen for a bossy witch, but in the past day he had been made fully aware of just how dictatorial she could be. Several times she had barked at him to stop telling her how to breathe – so he had – or not to try cooling her down unless she specifically asked him to do it – so he had not – and when she had finally progressed to the pushing stage – nearly three hours prior – she asked that he not touch her any more than necessary. _

_It was becoming increasingly difficult for him to figure out what to do for her, but he would keep trying. He did not take her criticisms to heart for he knew how exhausted she must be – _he_ was exhausted, and he had hardly been anything more than a glorified armchair for most of it. Frankly, he was relieved by the fact she was talking to him at all, for there had been a few hours or so where she had been unable to do even that._

_"Sev," she whispered, tearing up slightly, "I don't think I can do this."_

_He inhaled deeply and leaned his forehead against hers. "It will be over soon."_

_"That's what you said six hours ago."_

_Severus nodded slowly. "I suppose we should have considered our child would be just as stubborn as either of us."_

_"It's _your_ fault," she sighed before wincing and tensing up. "I'm not this…ugh… stubborn." _

_When she relaxed slightly a moment later, he raised an eyebrow in amusement. "I beg to differ."_

_An angry spark ignited on her face as she glared up at him. "Do you want to be the first father to die in childbirth?"_

_"You're doing well, darling," he grinned. Deciding it was worth the risk to his personal safety to keep her focused on something other than the clock, he continued goading her. "I have full confidence in your stubbornness prevailing. I know you've survived worse –"_

_"Oh you think so?" Hermione shook her head. "Why don't you go get _crucio_-ed every five minutes for an entire day and push a Quaffle out your arsehole – then we'll talk about surviving worse."_

_Her husband smirked and kissed her forehead. "I do love you."_

_"You had better," she murmured. "And stop trying to make me angry. I know that's what you're doing."_

_The wizard exhaled slowly. "Yes, dear."_

_It was nearing midnight by that point, and only minutes after the bells announced the arrival of July 9th, it was with great relief that Healer Fairborne finally declared the head visible. It went smoothly after that, and within what seemed like no time at all, Emmeline Minerva Snape had been cleaned, deemed healthy, and bundled into her mother's arms._

_At seeing how tired his wife was, Snape slipped his arms beneath hers as she cradled their child, in case they were at risk of giving out. The witch responded by tucking her head beneath his chin, and sniffling loudly. "She's so beautiful."_

_"That's _your_ fault," he murmured, watching intently as the tiny dark-eyed and -haired figure wriggled within their grasp._

Severus had not slept a wink the night Emmeline had been born, but had spent the hours watching over his sleeping family. And as the sound of the large doors creaking open followed by the lively chattering of the entering guests pulled him from his reminiscence, he knew he owed it to Hermione to suffer through the day. If she wished to make a fool of him in front of four hundred and seventeen people, so be it.

"Well, I think I shall fetch a seat before all of the good ones are claimed," Flitwick smiled, before hustling down the aisle and passing the approaching Ministry marriage official.

"Good afternoon," the man exclaimed as he climbed the steps of the dais and came to a stop beside the small table.

The Headmaster snorted under his breath as he realized it was the same buffoon who had actually married them seven years ago. As he crossed his arms behind his back and glanced up at the twinkling stars of the enchanted ceiling, he considered whether or not the choice of officiate had been intentional on his wife's part or if it had just been a happy coincidence. Likely, it was the former as she – the current Deputy Head of the Department for the Regulation, Control, and Protection of Magical Creatures and occasional member of the Minister for Magic's Advisory Committee – held plenty of clout at the Ministry and seemed to have a fair amount of time on her hands since the Werewolf Rights Act had passed the Wizengamot just months prior.

Glancing back at the decorated walls of the Great Hall, he noticed that every picture frame in the room was already packed with former Headmasters and other random portrait occupants of the castle. He rolled his eyes upon seeing that, in the nearest frame, Phineas Black and Everard Burke were violently jostling with each other over the last seat in the front row while Dilys Derwent shouted at them from her own seat, and Albus ignored them entirely as he gazed down upon his successor with a twinkling smile that was even more nauseating than usual.

Blowing out an annoyed breath, he looked instead toward the row of ghosts floating just beneath the enchanted ceiling.

"Looking good, Headmaster!"

Snape immediately snapped his narrowed gaze in the direction of his wife's former assistant. At seeing his glare, Marie waved and then tugged her date – whom the Slytherin was surprise to note was Charles Weasley – toward two unfilled seats in the second row.

"James, get back here!"

Severus's lips quirked into a smile as he watched Potter hand his godson off to Molly before chasing after the escaping four-and-a-half-year-old. The Head Auror managed to catch the squealing child just seconds before he could grab at the decorations on one of the large fir trees.

"Sorry about that," Harry muttered, hauling the dark-haired boy down the shallow steps.

"Might I suggest a temporary-sticking charm?"

The Gryffindor laughed quietly and nodded. "It may come to that yet."

His amusement was short lived, however, as he then caught sight of Rita Skeeter-Leach dragging an overweight, bespectacled, blonde-haired boy toward the front rows. He was suddenly regretting the decision not to read through and revise the guest list Hermione had given him months ago. Despite the fact that the ink-slinger had blatantly hinted at having started another critical biography – this one focused on himself – his wife had still seen fit to include her.

With a disgusted grimace, he panned his gaze across the room, pausing when he noticed a flash of white-blonde hair. The small boy appeared only a few years older than Emmeline and was the spitting image of an exceptionally young Draco Malfoy. The elegant witch attached to the child's hand had to be one of the Greengrass sisters – the youngest, Astoria, if he had to hazard a guess. Watching her shepherding the boy into one of the rear rows, Snape quickly scanned the empty seats until his eyes reached a tall, masculine figure. For a few moments, the man's face was obstructed by the blonde hair of the small girl he held, but when he turned to take a seat, there was no mistaking his identity.

Severus swallowed slightly in surprise when Draco's eyes locked onto his, and the younger man smiled and dipped his head in acknowledgement. It had been nearly a decade since he had last laid eyes upon the young heir. He had testified during his former student's trial and had written him several times in the few years following the acquittal, but they had fallen out of touch after Draco had left Britain. There had been a few post cards – from Greece, France, and Spain – during the first year of his somewhat-self-induced exile, but naught since then.

How Hermione had ever managed to find and lure him back to his home country was a mystery, but not exactly implausible. The witch indeed had a knack for manipulation – er, negotiation – and never shied away from lost causes. Regardless of how she had accomplished the feat, the ex-spy was greatly relieved to see that Draco appeared happier and healthier than at any time since the Dark Lord's second rise.

Before long, all but a handful of chairs were taken, and Filius stood long enough to flick his wand at a number of the wreaths. The buzz of chatter in the Hall quickly quieted down as soft music began to filter down from the ceiling.

Snape glanced around as did the guests, but immediately focused his attention to the entrance when Minerva appeared in the doorway with Emmeline's hand firmly ensconced within hers. The little girl wore a fluffy white dress with a thick blue ribbon tied about her waist that matched the wreath of forget-me-nots placed atop her dark curls. She seemed to be uncertain about the crowd of people watching her as she sank slightly into the skirt of her godmother's robes while they walked down the aisle. When the pair reached the end of the chairs, however, the girl caught sight of her father and pulled away from the Deputy Headmistress.

Snickers erupted from those gathered as Emma charged forward and then lifted her arms above her head. "Daddy, up!"

Snorting softly, the Headmaster did as he was instructed.

"Like my dress?" she asked, placing her small hands on his shoulders. "Mummy says I'm a princess."

As McGonagall covered her mouth and dipped her head, he sent her a warning glance and then gave his daughter a small nod. "I agree with your mother."

Emmeline glanced behind her in concern and then leaned forward to whisper, "Can we go now?"

"Unfortunately not," he smirked, detaching one of her hands. "Now if you would, be a good girl and go sit with your godmother until dinner."

The little girl frowned visibly as he moved to pass her over to the witch and then tapped her cheek as she demanded, "Kiss first, Daddy."

After giving a long suffering sigh, Snape pressed his lips against her cheek and then reattempted the transfer. In the midst of it, however, his attention was again pulled toward the entrance as Ginevra Potter stepped down the aisle, leaving him an obstructed view of his wife. As his mouth parted in shock, he momentarily forgot his present task, causing Emmeline to awkwardly slide down his side until Minerva caught her halfway to the floor. Glancing down in confusion, he grimaced briefly while his Deputy readjusted the girl on her hip and chuckled loudly.

Returning his gaze to the end of the aisle, he noticed that Hermione had pinched her lips together in an attempt not to laugh out loud. After ducking her head slightly, she squared her shoulders and then slowly began stepping forward. A quirk of smile graced her mouth at the murmurs rippling through the crowd.

Her husband swallowed hesitantly as she moved towards him; his eyes working hard to forever engrave the image into his mind. A few tendrils of hair hung about her face as a braid wreathed about her head before disappearing into a knot of soft curls at the base of her neck. The bodice of the dress was fitted to her form, the satin material gathered along her right hip, before widening into a skirt that touched the floor and trailed a few inches behind her. The neckline was cut just low enough to hint at her cleavage, and delicate lace hugged her arms nearly down to her wrists. The sapphire earrings he had given her for her thirtieth birthday dangled from her ears, but she wore no other jewelry beyond the silver band on her left hand. A spray of forget-me-nots and ivory roses was draped over her arm, and tucked into her hair were two blossoms of a blue orchid.

Severus knew that her attire was relatively simple for a traditional wizarding ceremony, but at the moment, he thought she was the most extravagant thing he had ever seen. He suddenly felt quite stupid for having scoffed at Filius's earlier declaration, for this was an entirely different matter that was utterly incomparable to day their Emmeline was born. He could not definitively say which he found more beautiful: the fierce warrior who had fought through more than twenty hours of pain to deliver their tiny princess or the angelic figure now gliding down the aisle.

As she neared the base of the steps where he stood, he suddenly realized that he owed her for this as well. She was not making a fool of him – he was doing that well enough on his own – but was instead boldly declaring to the masses that she had chosen him of all people. No one had pointed her in his direction after the Act was repealed – quite the opposite, in fact – and she had had every right to walk away from him. But she had stayed because she wanted to; because she loved him.

And now she stood, dressed like a queen, before four hundred and seventeen of their closest friends, colleagues, and random acquaintances to proclaim him worthy of possessing her heart.

Severus watched his wife hand her flowers over to Ginny, who quietly slunk back to the open seat between Minerva and Harry, and he knew he would be forever indebted to his witch.

"Hi," Hermione smiled, blinking away tears as she slipped her arm through his.

The wizard returned a smile and then cleared his throat, finally remembering what they were supposed to do. He assisted her up the steps as they moved toward the waiting officiator, softly murmuring, "Are you crying?"

She blushed deeply upon reaching the small table and nodded lightly when the official greeted the crowd. Tilting her head towards him, she whispered, "I've just never seen you look at me like that before."

Severus eyed her in surprise and then wrapped his hand around hers. As the Ministry official continued on with the ceremony, the Headmaster leaned nearer her head. "I should have."

"Indeed." The witch bore a definite smirk as she flicked her gaze up to his face.

"If the two of you could face each other and join hands," the officiant instructed. When they had done so, he cleared his throat and turned slightly toward the Headmaster. "Severus Tobias, shall you continue to keep Hermione as your wife, promising to be her friend, partner, and truest love? Shall you also promise to love her without hesitancy, to honor and respect her, to shield her from danger, to comfort her in times of darkness, and to share with her in mind, body, and soul?"

"I shall," he stated firmly, squeezing her hands.

"And you, Hermione Jean, shall you continue to accept Severus as your husband, promising to be his friend, partner and truest love? Shall you also promise to love him without hesitancy, to honor and respect him, to shield him from danger, to comfort him in times of darkness, and to share with him in mind, body and soul?"

"I shall," she whispered, blinking quickly.

"Do the two of you have rings to excha—"

"Oh, erm," Hermione mumbled, tearing her eyes away from her husband. "We were supposed to skip this part since we don't have new –"

The dark-haired wizard cleared his throat and withdrew one hand from hers. "Actually, I have one to give."

While the official gave a relieved sigh, the woman suddenly glanced up at him in surprise. "What? I thought we decided not to."

"_You_ may have decided," he murmured softly, slipping his hand into his pocket. "_I_ did not, however."

Shaking her head as he produced a small, golden box, she whispered, "Prat."

Snape momentarily flicked his gaze toward the wide-eyed Ministry worker and smirked while he quickly removed the jewelry and banished the box back to their bedroom. Taking up her left hand, he kept the new ring hidden from view while he transferred her original silver band to her right hand. He could practically feel the curiosity vibrating off of her as she nibbled on her bottom lip and stared expectantly at his hand.

"You have made me happier than I ever imagined possible," he breathed into her ear, before gently slipping the ring onto her finger.

Hermione smiled widely at his admission and again looked down at her hand to see the sparkling, white diamond nestled in silver filigree. With a quiet gasp, she snapped her eyes up to his and then threw her arms about his neck, pulling his head down to meet her lips.

"Pardon me," the officiant cleared his throat, "but I hadn't quite gotten to that part of –"

The Slytherin withdrew his mouth from hers in order to issue the man a cold glare.

"Oh, m-my apologies, sir… by all means, c-carry on."

Giggling softly, the witch pressed her forehead against her husband's before taking a step back from him. As she faced the Ministry official, she blushed. "Sorry."

"No, no," he mumbled, shaking his head and glancing nervously in the groom's direction. "You are already married after all – who be I to tell a wizard that he cannot accept a kiss from his wife."

At a sudden rumble of laughter from the gallery, Severus glowered over his shoulder until both George and Ronald Weasley sheepishly sank down in their chairs. Draco Malfoy seemed undeterred, however, and bravely continued leering at him.

"Might we continue?" the brunette asked, squeezing his hand and drawing his attention back to the front of the room.

"Of course!" the official nodded before clearing his throat again. "Hermione, do you accept Severus's ring as a token of his continued affection for you?"

She nodded eagerly. "I do."

"And Severus, do you… accept… erm...Hermione's kiss as a token of her continued affection for you?"

"I do," he stated with a smirk.

"Then by the privilege extended to me by the Ministry of Magic of the United Kingdom – which wasn't exactly necessary in this instance, but nevertheless – I declare that the two of you are _still_ legally and spiritually bonded as husband and wife. Severus, you may – again – kiss your witch."

When Hermione glanced up at him with a smile brighter than the ring on her finger, the Headmaster placed one hand beneath her jaw and slipped his other arm about her waist. Drawing her fully against his body, he lowered his head and pressed his lips to hers gently before nudging her mouth open and deepening the kiss. As the exchange continued, applause and cheering sounded from the crowd while the official waved his wand in an intricate pattern, causing a shower of golden sparks to rain down upon their heads. Finally drawing apart, the Gryffindor witch gripped his velvet robes tightly and breathlessly leaned against his chest while they watched the shimmering sparks ignite the wicks of the two silver candles before gradually disappearing.

"Thank you," she whispered, kissing his cheek as the guests began forming a line to congratulate them.

"I should thank _you_," he murmured in reply, smiling at her before gesturing toward their daughter, "Since I am the one who has clearly come out ahead in this deal."

After Minerva set Emmeline on the floor and whispered in her ear, the little girl smiled and then ran past all of the people. As she jumped at her father, he clumsily caught her about the waist with one arm and then hauled her up to his chest.

"Not going to drop her again, are you?" Marie quipped upon reaching the head of the queue.

As Hermione snickered and tightened hold of his hand, the Slytherin narrowed his eyes into a glare. "I did no such thing."

"Oh, you did," Ginny smirked from where she had chosen to stand beside the bride. "And Dennis got it on film, even."

The man snapped his gaze in the direction of her hand and spotted the mousy-haired Creevey giving them a thumbs-up as he continued to hide behind his large camera.

"Don't worry, Severus," Molly Weasley smiled, tickling Emma beneath her chin. "Arthur dropped Bill and Charlie, here, at least half a dozen times, and they've come out perfectly fine."

Snape raised one eyebrow in response. "And what happened to the others?"

As Ginny gasped, her father chuckled quietly and shook his head. "Perhaps I did not drop them enough."

"I see," the Headmaster replied before glancing back at the deluge of well-wishers. As the line continued moving forward, he could see Filius and Minerva teaming up at the back of the Great Hall to replace the current arrangement of chairs with what was needed for the dinner and reception. By the time the queue had nearly come to an end, the transformed space was somewhat reminiscent of the Yule Ball so many years before. Round tables adorned in silver punctuated the room, stopping several meters short of the dais, where the small, circular table had elongated into one large enough to seat the bridal party.

Seemingly sensing that he was not paying full attention to their guests, Hermione tugged lightly on his arm and then held out her hands. "I can take her for a moment."

The wizard raised one eyebrow in question until he realized that the young Malfoy family was nearing the front of the line. Nodding slightly, he passed the little girl over to her and then slipped one arm behind her shoulders.

"Uncle Severus," Draco smirked, holding out his hand. "You look well."

"As do you," he replied as they shook hands. "Despite your apparent inability to use an owl."

A sheepish look crossed the blonde's face as he shrugged and then gestured to his slender wife. "Sorry, sir. I guess I just got a little busy."

"I can see that."

"You remember Astoria?"

Snape dipped his head in greeting as the witch smiled. "I do, yes."

"Well, this here is Scorpius," Draco stated, proudly resting a hand on his son's head. "He's just turned six last month, and hiding back there is Corona, who'll be four in February."

At the sound of her name, the blonde girl poked her head out from behind her father's robes. With large grey eyes, she peered up at the bride's gown and smiled bashfully.

"Though, it seems you have been busy as well, sir," Malfoy winked towards Hermione. "You've even managed to turn Granger here into something with actual class."

The witch rolled her eyes as she set her slightly-fussy daughter on the floor. "Well, it certainly appears that Astoria still has her work cut out for her with that particular task, doesn't it?"

With an amused sneer, the younger wizard glanced back at his former mentor. "I always did peg you for picking the fiery type. Of course she'd have to be to survive your sunny disposition, wouldn't she?"

"Yes, and you had better bear that in mind henceforth," Severus warned, moving his arm to rest around his wife's waist.

"Message heard and received," the blonde grinned before bending down to address their curly-haired daughter. "And just who is this lovely, young lady?"

"This is Emmeline," Hermione replied, holding onto her hand. "She'll turn four this July."

Astoria crouched down next to her own daughter. "Corona, Miss Emmeline is almost as old as you are. Can you say 'hello' to her?"

Giving a shy nod, the youngest Malfoy took one step forward while Emma tugged her hand out of her mother's. A moment later, the two little witches wrapped their arms about each other in a friendly embrace.

"Well, that's certainly a first," Draco laughed, scratching the back of his head. "She's only ever done that with family, you know."

As the girls separated and returned to hold their respective mothers' hands, Astoria smiled elegantly. "At least I know now that she'll have a friend in her year of school."

"Now we'll just have to find one for Scorpius," her husband remarked, glancing appraisingly about the hall, "of course we'll have to sift through the sea of gingers to find someone even halfway suitable."

Severus snorted and his wife bit down on her lip as they all heard Ginny give an affronted groan. Clearing her throat, Hermione asked, "You're returning to England then?"

Draco nodded as he lifted Corona and held her against his chest. "Tori's grandmother has been ill, so she'd like to be closer than France. Plus, mum doesn't really like to leave the cottage at all, so I thought it might cease some of her whining if the children are nearby. And now that Hogwarts _finally_ has a proper Headmaster, I figured why not?"

An amused snort drew their attention to Minerva's arrival at her colleague's side. "I never thought I would say this, but it is good to see you again, Mr. Malfoy. However, you are holding up the queue, and the elves are anxiously waiting to begin the dinner service."

"I suppose we'll just have to chat another time," he sighed, shaking Snape's hand again and then giving a theatrical sigh before giving Hermione a half-hug. As he steered his family down the dais, he winked at Ginny. "Weaslette."

"Ferret," she snapped with a frown.

"And just which batch of tiny Scarheads are _you_ on?" he queried, eyeing her swollen stomach.

The redhead narrowed her eyes. "I don't care whose party it is, I will hex you."

"Easy now," he quipped. "And tell Potty I'd like a word with him after supper."

A few hours later, after the dinner plates and dessert platters had all been cleared away, Severus sat at the bridal table, ignoring whatever it was that Potter and Draco were supposedly discussing with him. His eyes were fixed upon the center of the open space where Hermione and her matron of honor had taken her large bouquet a few minutes prior. As Ginevra perched on a chair, holding the spray on her lap, his bride crouched on the floor with their daughter standing beside her as she dismantled the bundle and handed out individual roses to each of the young girls that had gathered near them.

A small smile graced his lips as he watched her interacting with all of the children. She practically glowed as the youngest girls hugged her or kissed her cheek before scampering off with their treasures in hand. He knew exactly how her eyes sparkled whenever she thought about Emmeline or spent time herding the Potter boys, and he had once overheard her telling Ginny that she had always been a bit jealous of the Weasleys since she had never had any siblings of her own. He understood how lonely it could be as an only child – of course, his childhood had been undeniably different than hers – and though Emma had plenty of Potters and Weasleys with whom she could play, he knew that it was not quite the same. Several times they had discussed having at least another child sometime down the road, and recently he had begun to wonder whether or not they were ready for a second mouth to feed.

In watching her now, he decided that maybe it really was time.

Clearing his throat, Severus excused himself from conversation and pushed his chair back from the table. Taking one final sip of his champagne – off-handedly noticing that his wife appeared to have been so diverted by everything else that she had not even touched hers – he gracefully stepped around the end of the table and descended the shallow steps.

As Emmeline happily bounded off hand-in-hand with Viola Weasley – Ronald's youngest – and Corona Malfoy, Hermione picked herself up from the floor and handed her last handful of flowers to a few students who were unable to visit their families for the holidays. The wizard slowed his approach as they, too, gave her a quick hug, and once they had left, he moved to stand immediately behind her. When he ran his fingers down the small of her back, she inhaled deeply and leaned her head back against his shoulder.

"Would you care to dance?" he asked; his lips hovering above her ear.

The witch nodded straightaway, turning in his arms. As she accepted his hand and placed her other hand on his shoulder, charmed snowflakes fell from the ceiling as a spirited waltz began to play.

Snape lifted one eyebrow as he took in her hopeful gaze. "You really were expecting an actual dance, weren't you?"

"Of course," she smiled, tilting her head as he led her through the first rotating steps. "I've found myself a wizard who actually knows how to dance – why wouldn't I want to show him off a bit?"

Snorting softly, he twirled her about quickly before slowing and dipping her slightly. He then pulled her back to his chest and returned to their original pace for a few minutes. "You have Narcissa Malfoy to thank for that. She took great pleasure in instilling a sense of breeding within me."

"Is that so?" she asked as he dropped his hand to her waist and walked her about in a circle. "You're not about to tell me that Draco is secretly yours, are you?"

"Absolutely not," he replied with a bemused smirk, drawing her back to his chest. "Had he been, I would have taken him over my knee years ago. No, she was simply bored and thought it amusing to turn a graceless street urchin into something more sophisticated. There were no knitted hats lying about, but spontaneous lectures on table manners instead."

Hermione smirked as they entered into another series of twirls and kept her eyes locked onto his. "Perhaps I ought to send her a Christmas card then, if she's the one responsible for polishing you into a Prince."

"She merely painted a rock," he stated, shaking his head slightly as he dipped her once more, "but you, my queen, are the one who took care of the rough edges."

As they slowed to a stop and applause sounded from the guests standing about the edge of the dance floor, a blush graced her cheeks and she raised her head to catch his lips. Slipping her hands around his neck, she murmured, "Though there are a number of rough edges that I'm particularly fond of."

"Well, those certainly won't go anywhere," the wizard replied with a mischievous grin, "though I invite you rub them as hard and as often as you like."

Laughing loudly, she leaned against him and tucked her head beside his neck as they began to sway in time to the next song. Taking in a deep breath, she ran one hand along the velvet robes covering his chest. "I like this color on you. You should wear it more often."

"We shall see," he smirked, covering her hand with his.

"I know that means 'yes'."

"Unless you say it," Severus clarified, "in which case it means 'no'."

"And so intelligent, too," the witch snickered, kissing his cheek. "I don't think I could have found a better man even if I tried."

Grinning, he nuzzled his nose along hers. "As long as you keep thinking that…"

"Always," she whispered, meeting his mouth with hers.

A short while later, their dance was interrupted by a tap on Hermione's shoulder.

"We just wanted to say a quick good-bye," Marie smiled, throwing her arms around the bride. "You look positively radiant, boss."

When Charlie finished shaking Severus's hand, the blonde witch switched places with him. Pulling the groom into a hug before he had a chance to prevent it, she smirked. "And I know poor Julian will be devastated to hear that he missed seeing you looking so divine."

Hermione laughed at her husband's groan and possessively slipped her arm through his.

"Oh, don't worry, boss," Marie grinned, looking up at Charlie as she grabbed his hand. "I'm quite satisfied with my dragon-rider."

The ginger-haired wizard blushed deeply as they mumbled their final good-byes and then quickly slipped off of the busy dance floor.

"They're leaving rather early," Hermione commented, grinning as she stepped back into her husband's arms.

The Headmaster snorted and rolled his eyes. "Well, I don't think they've left in order to ride dragons."

"Obviously," she smirked, watching over his shoulder as the younger witch eagerly tugged her boyfriend out of the Great Hall. "I think they're well-suited, don't you?"

Severus eyed her speculatively before exhaling at the ceiling. "You've had something to do with that, haven't you?"

"Perhaps," the witch mumbled. "But _you_ were the one who suggested I talk to him when I needed to find someone worthwhile to head the Dragon Research, Restraint, and Rehabilitation Bureau."

He lifted one eyebrow as he glanced down at her. "I do not recall suggesting that you immediately set to marrying him off, however."

"Oh, no – that was Molly."

"Of course it was," he sneered, glancing over to where the eldest Weasleys were dancing. "Because a dozen grandchildren could not possibly be nearly enough. Merlin, in a few generations' time, I'll have to add another House just to house them all."

Hermione snickered quietly. "Well, Charlie will be forty next year, so it is about time he thought about settling down."

"She seems a bit young for him –"

"Oh, please," she sighed, shaking her head at him. "She's twenty-five – the exact same age I was when I married you, and you were how old again? It certainly wasn't thirty-nine."

"Well, you are too young for me, most assuredly," Severus smiled. "I can hardly keep up with you."

The witch rolled her eyes. "Oh, you keep _up_ just fine, Mr. I'm-too-old-to-shag-on-the-sofa. Or did I mistakenly allow some other talented gent under my skirt the other night? It was rather dark, you know."

"Alright," he sighed good-naturedly before kissing her forehead. "I concede the point."

She grinned mischievously as she sought his mouth for a quick kiss. "I think you'll just have to reprise the performance – with the lights on – so I can be sure that you really are capable of such a feat."

The wizard snorted and then whispered against her ear. "Another night, yes. Tonight, however, should be centered on the marital-bed, I think. We shall revisit the marital-sofa again soon."

Blushing slightly, his wife met his eyes. "I'm going to hold you to that promise."

"And I am exceptionally glad that you are willing to hold me at all," he quipped.

Hermione beamed as she tightened her grip about him and tucked her forehead against the side of his jaw. After the song ended a moment later, they drew apart at the sound of a throat clearing.

"Someone's ready for bed, it seems," Minerva smiled, turning so that they could see Emmeline pressed tightly against her chest. "We've had a minor row."

"Oh?" the brunette asked, sweeping her daughter's curls out of her face. "How bad?"

"Well, Jamie Potter stepped on the back of her dress – accidently or not, I suppose we'll never know," the elder woman shrugged, "but, in either case, Emma gave him a pretty good wallop to the head."

When Severus snorted in amusement, his wife smacked him against the chest and then held up one finger in warning. "Not funny."

"Matter of opinion," he shrugged.

"Oh, he's perfectly fine," McGonagall smirked. "The tears were easily switched off with another bite of cake. Apologies were exchanged, and then Ginny took him and his brother up to bed."

"Alright," Hermione breathed, leaning forward to kiss her daughter's cheek. "Good night, darling. You're going to stay with Gramma Minnie tonight, but we'll see you in the morning."

"Kitties?" the little girl asked after her father wished her a good night.

"By all means," he nodded, kissing the top of her head, "take them with you."

As the Gryffindor Head chuckled and whisked the girl away from the dance floor, Hermione sighed and rubbed her forehead. "As much as it pains me to say, I really hope she isn't placed in Gryffindor."

Snape's eyebrows nearly shot to his hairline. "Pray tell?"

"Well, considering she already has both the Headmaster and Deputy Headmistress wrapped around her finger," she replied, "it would be nice to know that her Head of House would still be willing to keep her in line."

"Does anyone ever manage to keep Gryffindors in line?" he quipped, drawing her toward his body again.

The witch rolled her eyes as they assumed their dancing position. "At least they make an attempt. You used to be quite good at it, as I recall."

"Until you came around," he murmured against her head. When a flash of light occurred, the wizard pinned a glare on the shorter man holding the camera and then frowned. "Is he quite done yet?"

"I've hired Dennis for the entire night, so no," she laughed. "We'll have plenty of photographs for our grandchildren to inherit."

"What grandchildren?"

Hermione giggled as she looked up at him. "Oh, there _will_ be grandchildren."

"Not if I have anything to do with it," Severus growled.

His wife snickered into his shoulder. "Have you _seen_ our daughter? Someone will be willing enough to risk even _your_ wrath –"

"I blame you," he interrupted. "Had it been up to my genetics, we wouldn't have that problem."

"Please," she groaned, shaking her head. "She has _your_ coloring, _your_ eyes, _your_ height… _You_ are just as much at fault as I am."

The Headmaster scowled over her head. "Well, I suppose disfiguring Potions accidents do sometimes happen…"

"Shut it!" Hermione cautioned, before kissing his cheek. "Perhaps you'll have better luck with the next one, then."

His eyes snapped down to hers.

"I expect we'll find out how well you fared," she murmured casually, "say end of August, beginning of September?"

Severus stopped them mid-turn, nearly causing a collision with the Longbottoms. "You're – we're expecting?"

"Yes," she gasped with a smile. "I wanted to wait until today to tell you. I mean, it's not a ring, but –"

The rest of her statement died away as his lips descended upon hers. As dozens of couples moved about them, they stood in place for several moments, exploring each other's mouth as one of his hands ghosted down her side to rest protectively against her stomach. When they finally separated to much cheering from their guests, Snape eyed her carefully and then laughed. "You're going to ruin this one, too, aren't you?"

"Only one way to find out," she shrugged, running her hands through the hair at the base of his neck. "We'll just have to wait and see."

"Have you had enough dancing yet?" he whispered, nuzzling his nose against hers. When she nodded, the wizard scooped her up into his arms.

Hermione wrapped her arms about his neck and stared at him in disbelief. "What? Are you going to carry me up seven flights of stairs?"

"Not exactly," Severus murmured. "I am Headmaster, after all."

She laughed brightly as the busy Great Hall suddenly melted into the quiet privacy of their bedroom. "Cheat."

"I am merely utilizing my exceptional talent for magic," he smirked, carrying her toward the foot of the bed.

The witch watched him brightly as he gently set her on her feet in front of him. "I do hope you're planning on utilizing your other exceptional talents as well."

"Indeed," he chuckled, slipping his hands down her sides to cup her bottom.

"Aren't you going to recite poetry or serenade me first?" she teased as he began kissing his way down her neck.

The Slytherin sighed at the base of her throat. "Don't be ridiculous. I do not do poetry, and I certainly _do not_ _sing_."

When he lifted his head, she tilted her head coyly. "What? You expect me just to give it up that easily?"

Snape grinned as he slipped his arms about her waist and began loosening the laces of her dress. "Well, I _did_ buy you a ring."

When she smacked his shoulder, he trapped her hand for a second. "I think I know where Emmeline learned that."

"Ha ha," Hermione sneered before undoing the buttons of his dress robes and pushing them from his shoulders.

"It _was_ a rather expensive ring," the man argued softly as he freed one shoulder from her lace sleeve and then proceeded to press his lips against her bare skin.

Her eyes fluttered shut and she gripped the fabric of his shirt. "Is that so?"

"Mmm," he mumbled, turning his attention to her other side. "Goblin-crafted… and I rejected their first two proposed designs."

"What?" she gasped, slipping her left hand onto his shoulder so that she could look at it in the moonlight. She had noticed earlier that the filigree of one side included the figure of a lion, while the other side hosted his mate. Spinning it slightly on her finger, she now smiled at seeing that their tails were intertwined at the base of the ring. "They couldn't have taken that very well."

Severus snorted quietly against her exposed collarbone. "That's why it cost three times as much as the original estimate… _before_ the engraving charge."

Her eyes widened slightly. "You had it engraved?"

The wizard rose to his full height as he watched her eagerly slip the jewelry from her finger and peer at the inside of the metal band.

_My light. My love. My life._

As her eyes scanned over the tiny etchings, he could see her chest beginning to rise and fall with a greater pace, and there were tears in the corners of her eyes when she finally glanced up at him.

"I thought you didn't _do_ poetry," she whispered.

A grin broke across his face as he took the ring and once again gently slid it into place on her finger. "I made an exception."

Smiling, she ran her hands up his chest and then placed them behind his neck as she rose up to meet his lips. "And would you ever make an exception for singing?"

With a snort, Severus shook his head. "Not when my task is to have you naked and wanton in my bed. Singing is undoubtedly _not_ one of my exceptional talents."

"Fair enough," she murmured softly, kissing his throat. "Have you finished with my laces yet?"

"Mmm-hmm," he managed as her fingers undid his top two buttons. His eyes closed briefly as her mouth continued moving over his scars. When she suddenly pulled out of his grasp, he opened his eyes and stared at her in mild confusion.

Grinning devilishly, Hermione backed several steps away from him before shrugging out of her sleeves. Slowly, she pushed the bodice of her dress down her torso and over her hips, revealing the lingerie she had donned beneath it.

Snape froze in place, mouth hanging slightly agape, as he watched her step out of the folds of white satin. His eyes hungrily raked over the sheer, dark blue lace which did absolutely nothing to hide her curves – or her barely-there knickers, for that matter – and came to an end just below the swell of her backside.

"What do you think?" the witch asked, tilting her head as she sauntered toward him.

He swallowed heavily as he forced his eyes away from her smooth legs and back to her smirking face. "I think I'm going to need more jewelry."

She giggled delicately as she pressed herself against him and slipped her hands through his hair. "I'll settle for extra nappy-changing."

"Done," he stated immediately, lifting her from the floor. As their lips crashed together, the man blindly carried her to the bed, laying her down in the center of the mattress and positioning himself above her. He finished undoing his shirt and casting it aside without releasing her mouth, and only pulled away long enough to hastily grab his wand to magically rid himself of his trousers, boots, and socks. At the present moment, he did not believe he had the focus of mind to do any wandless magic.

When he returned to her, Hermione ran her fingertips along the sides of his face and whispered, "We've done pretty well together, haven't we?"

A small smile played on his lips as the wizard nodded and then kissed her gently. "I told you we'd eventually figure it out, didn't I? We're just stubborn enough to make it."

"Not malcontented?" she laughed against his lips, moving her hands to trace the length of his torso.

Severus shook his head. "Not at all malcontented."

"Happy, then?" she smiled as he touched his forehead to hers.

"Ecstatic," he smirked.

Hermione nipped at his lower lip and gently slipped one hand beneath the waistband of his pants. Her voice was breathless as she whispered, "Fantastic."


End file.
